Urban Legends and Fairytales
by mariposafria
Summary: A love story hidden within a murder mystery, spun around a kind girl dealt a hard life. A fairytale ending? Maybe. Only if Detective Sylvester figures out whodunit in time to keep Mercedes from becoming another bloody footnote in a common urban legend.
1. CH one half: start with a bang

**Disclaimer: I own nothing…'tis a shame, but 'tis true**

**CH 1/2: Starting Things off With a Bang, Bang, Bang…Bang!**

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><p><strong>AN: Special thanks to Jadziwine who encouraged me with lots of all-caps four-letter word filled PMs to go a little dark :)**

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><p><strong>Introduction: Emzjuk has described this story as Gotham City meets Moulin Rouge and I suppose when I really think about it, except for the distinct lack of tuberculosis and card carrying super villains; she may not be that far off…<strong>

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><p><strong>Part One: The Obligatory Warnings<strong>

This story is very AU, but will feature almost every main cast member from the show and a few guest stars as well. The basic personalities are the same, but they are dirty and grimy and evolve in a Lima, OH that is less cute and middle America, and more darkly hopeless. Sure, Sam was still homeless for a spell in high school, but now he's out of Junior college and has found surprising success as a sci-fi fantasy author. Rachel still wants Broadway, but for now has settled for the smoky haze and spotlight of her own karaoke joint/bar instead. Does Finn still like his cake? Yes, but in this story his dessert of choice is donuts. Will Santana still threaten to cut you? In almost every chapter, but at some point she will get to cut someone to pieces, or at least the act is implied! (and if you are following along, you will cheer when she does). Artie is still in a wheelchair, but how he got there will surprise you and make you mad. Our fair Kurt will be a star, but not the kind that shines on a stage in front of a live audience. And Sue is still Sue, but she gets to carry a big shiny badge and an even bigger shinier gun in this story. Like I said, they are all there, but save a precious few, they are older, a bit wiser, and in general a lot more messed up.

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><p><strong>Part Two: A Summary That is More Than 150 Characters Long<strong>

Squint your eyes and you will see that this dark, gritty tale about the mean, crime ridden streets of Lima, OH is actually a love story hidden inside of a grisly murder mystery. To crack the case and uncover the killer, follow the story of an unlikely hooker, too kind for the streets and too haunted by a dark past to even turn a decent trick. Her inability to perform may be the only reason she's still alive. Professional difficulties aside, her friendly spirit has managed to win her some decent and true friendships with people who will watch her back and risk everything to take care of her. As the sweet street girl with the too big heart, her Mohawked pimp whose crusty exterior belies his teddy bear soft heart, her best friend, the knife wielding feisty Latina who works the poles down at the Glee Club, and the drug addicted rich girl, who is like her little sister all struggle to survive, will someone make the ultimate sacrifice? And just who is the mysterious blonde 'john' in the shiny car who _only_ wants coffee and conversation?

As a seasoned homicide detective follows the clues, she will cross paths with a little blonde girl that makes her think of her long lost sister, a green but sharp witted good cop and his dopey but shady partner. We'll find out where to get the best donuts in town and frequent a bar, aptly named the StarBar that is the safe haven for the has-beens and the wannabes alike. We'll meet those who are there to save, those who need saving, and those who simply watch it all unfold.

Will Detective Sue Sylvester figure out whodunit in time or will Mercedes Jones be just another footnote in a bloody urban legend?

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><p><strong>Part Three: As Promised- The Bang, Bang, Bang…Bang<strong>

If she hadn't just dropped him off almost ten minutes ago along this same alleyway, she never would have come back. Familiarity, although brief, made her feel confident that she could venture one more time into the ever darkening side street. Made her confident that she was safe, that she could keep her baby safe, and that her car would be waiting for her when she emerged; all because of him. Looking at the text one last time, she can't help but smile as she juggled the phone, her keys, and the baby carrier. Hearing the reassuring _beeeep-eep_ of her car alarm, she enters the alley, smiling at the words: I just need one more goodbye.

_Click, click, click…_

Slipping the phone and keys into her pocket, she turns at the sound of the approaching footsteps. "No—You're not Noah. Who are you? And where's Noah?"

"Not important. I'm a friend and Puck's not coming. If you just do what I say, no one will get hurt."

Sarcastically she thinks, _Classic. _She narrows her eyes at the stranger. "What do you want?"

"We just need to borrow the baby for a little while. You'll get her back in no time, unharmed, I promise."

She looks down at the baby asleep in the carrier. "_We_? I don't know you and I'm not just going to hand over my baby because you say so. Whatever this is about, you tell him we can talk about it. I mean if it's about money, I—I could probably help him out."

"Ho—how much do you have?"

"On me? Nothing, but I—I can get some." There is a distinct pause while her offer is being considered. "You look nervous. First time shake down?" She laughs uneasily and says, "This is my first time be shaken down and I grew up not too far from here. You go and tell Noah that I'm not going to keep him from Beth." The kid across from her didn't look any older than Noah. This was just a misunderstanding. "Maybe he expected our meeting to go badly and forgot to call you off, so I am willing to turn around right now and forget this ever happened. When he's ready to see Beth again, tell him to call me on the phone. He can't just take her whenever he wants. And if he needs money, _well_, he'll have to talk to me about that too."

"That's not gonna work, we need the baby…now. Ju—just give her to me."

Frustrated and shaking her head no, Shelby adjusts the carrier in her hands. "This is unbelievably stupid. You are insane, and apparently so is Noah. You know what, just forget what I said, I tried to do the right thing, but…" She turns to leave, only turning back around when she hears the gun cock.

_Bang, bang, bang…bang_

The first shot hits her shoulder, throwing her off balance, causing her to drop the baby carrier to the ground suddenly, barely disturbing it's occupant as it slowly rocks on the concrete. The second and third shots hit her in the chest, and drop her to her knees next to the carrier. The final shot goes into her back after she finally falls forward, face-down on the ground.

The shots are muffled and kind of distorted from a silencer attached to the muzzle. This allows the baby to sleep through the whole ordeal. She will cry only when she wakes up to eat a few hours later, in new bright surroundings, greeted by new bright faces.

…**Meanwhile, across town**

"…Man Figgins, you should have seen her! She had to have been the most beautiful baby girl ever. So perfect, so sweet, so sweet _smelling_…"

Mr. Figgins sits back while Noah Puckerman continues to extol the magnificent qualities of his recently discovered offspring. After what seems like an eternity, Mr. Figgins says, "Noah, that is all well and good, but...does this really change anything? She will live in Ohio with her mother, but will you be able to play a _positive_ role in her life? Considering the path you have chosen thus far, I find it unlikely that you will change, even for your daughter." His words are spoken in truth, because that is his job. Noah has to see him and there is no point in wasting his time with sugarcoated lies. In-turn Noah drops his tough guy façade that is Puck, and allows himself to just be 'Noah Puckerman'.

Mr. Figgins has a nagging sense that the young man with the Mohawk and juvenile record a mile long had potential and real character under all of those muscles. What other man of his 'status' would greet the news of an illegitimate child with such joy other than one who must have a heart somewhere beneath the delinquent that surfaced all too frequently?

"Look, you weren't there man. We had a connection. She even has a little baby-hawk with this big blonde curl on the end of it. I swear man; I am going to try to live on the straight and narrow…well, as much as I can anyway. That's what I promised her mama, and that's what I intend to do."

"The mother is okay with all of this? I thought she tried to hide the child from you?"

"The adoptive moms and I are cool, so far anyway. The birth mom is still the same fake-ass heartless bitch who _didn't_ tell me I had a kid in the first place. All I have to say about her is that she's real lucky that I found out. She may live in a big fancy house on the other side of town now, so she can _act_ like she's forgotten about us, but that's not how it works. Roots are roots and they always keep you connected."

Leaning into the space separating him and the man sitting across from him, Mr. Figgins says, "What if that is what you have to do in order for this to work. Sometimes Noah it's best to pull up your roots, so to speak, and plant yourself elsewhere, for your own good."

All Puck can think is, _How'd I end up with Buddha as my court appointed counselor? _"Look, you don't get it. You dig up your roots and you die."

"Well look at your so called 'brother from the other mother'." Puck snickers at Mr. Figgins' attempt at slang. "You tell me that he has a legitimate job and a life away from the old neighborhood and he lives quite well."

Puck nods his head in agreement, but ultimately ends up doing it a bit sideways. "Sorta, I swear he crashes on my couch more than he sleeps at his own place. I can't tell if he just misses hangin' with me all the time or if he still hasn't stopped trying to get into Tana's pants. It better be the booty, cuz the other one would make him a girl."

Mr. Figgins chuckles. Noah thought that having to come and talk to him twice a month was causing him to grow ovaries. Apparently grown men weren't allowed to talk about the feelings they weren't supposed to have. "How did he take the news of your child?"

Puck's face falls for the first time since he walked into the office. "You know at first he acted like a jealous little bitch. Then he just started talking stupid…real stupid." Cracking his neck, and looking Mr. Figgins in the eye, he says flatly, "Then we had a little _disagreement_, and he ran home with his tail tucked between his legs. He'll show up again eventually."

He is Puck. The session is over and it's time to go home.

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><p><strong>End Notes:<strong>

An unconventional beginning I know, but I tried to make it interesting. The rest is all story (and much better, I promise).

Raise your hand if you have any fun words to add to the 'must use' list ;) I'm open to suggestions.

Thanks for reading & I hope that you liked it!


	2. CH1: A Motley Crew

**Disclaimer: I own nothing…'tis a shame, but 'tis true**

**CH 1: A Motley Crew**

**Dear Readers: Thank you for being intrigued and for giving this story a chance! I'm not gonna lie, I was worried…this is _different_, but it's still me & more importantly, it's still Glee. Remember, the warnings are in Ch ½. **

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><p><strong>Introduction: Despite her strong words of denial, hidden way deep down inside in a place even she has forgotten, Mercedes Jones still believes in fairytales. But the real question is when will she start believing in herself?<strong>

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><p><strong>Part One: It's a hard knock life…Instead of kisses, I turn tricks<strong>

Glancing down at her feet, she thinks, _I can't believe that I haven't walked a rut in the pavement. I feel like I have been out here pacing for hours. Where is he? _Looking at her watch and seeing that it was almost 5 pm, she starts to walk away from the main street, and back towards one of the less used side streets. _He didn't come by today._ _Not that he's looking for me anyway._ _No one ever looks for me._ Thinking about that more, she amends her thought with, _well no one that I actually want to find me. How pathetic am I? The highlight of my day is standing on the corner with other girls, hoping to see a certain car drive by slowly enough for me to glimpse the whites of his very green eyes. Not that he's going to stop and seem interested, just that he's going to drive by slow enough for me see him. _She stops walking and leans up against the wall, not caring about what may transfer to the back of her dress. _Whatever, since when have I ever been interested in white boys anyway, or any boy for that matter. _She had learned long ago that it was always safer to keep to herself. Nobody messed with you if they never noticed you. _Did I just waste an entire afternoon and have hardly anything to show for it? _She fingers the small roll of bills in her inner pocket, collected not from turning tricks, but from the other girls, the ones she helped with this or that. _This is not enough. If I start now and can keep it together, I can double it by the time I do bed check with Puck. _Stepping away from the wall, grim resolve etched onto her face, she strides back out to the corner. She is going to try to be the good little whore she was raised to be, she is going to try and stop taking handouts from the other girls and Santana; Mercedes Jones needed to earn her keep the right way for a change. At least that's the plan anyway.

Beautiful blonde boys in big fancy cars looked but never stopped, however plenty of other guys would stop. A car she had only recently begun to see slows to a stop beside her, and she opens the passenger's side door and gets in. Getting in she knew that one of three things would happen, and, despite her big walk and pitiful pep talk, sex wasn't one of them.

Possibility Number One: she would get sick, and since johns hated it when you puked on their dicks, and she got pretty grossed out by it too, she didn't even offer oral. That was a tried one and not really done, and won't be tried ever again. Possibility Number Two: she could have a panic attack so severe that it would feel like a heart attack. The one and only time that had happened, the guy thought she had died when she passed out and she woke up in the hospital with Santana and Puck hovering over her worried sick. Possibility Number Three (Practically a Certainty): Most of the time, she did what came naturally to her; she played dead.

She'd been dead, a walking, talking zombie, since she was 12 years old.

As she lays back in the backseat, she reads 'KEN' embroidered on a white patch over the front pocket of the blue collared work shirt, and the light smell of whisky wafts across her face and neck. Saying a prayer and looking up out of the window, suddenly it's dark and she is back in her bed at home, and not in that car. She's small for her age and can barely breathe with her dad's large hand covering her mouth to stifle her cries. Not that she ever actually cried or made a sound. She was so good at keeping secrets, from her mom, from her teachers, from everyone. She would pretend to be dead, a mummy wrapped in pink, her blanket the only soft thing she remembered among all of the hard, heavy, and painful things she had to endure like scraping nails, hard calloused hands, heavy sweaty muscles pressing her to the point of collapse, and all of the other things forcing their way in. He hated it when she played dead and wrapped herself in her pink cocoon. He hated having to unwrap her every night and force her legs to separate. Apparently she was supposed to like it, be eager, ready, and open, not wishing that she were dead. With her eyes open and gazing up, she can see pink even now; her vision is that strong and overpowering. Like a broken record, her mantra blares inside of her head: _Just play dead. The dead feel no pain. The dead can't be hurt. Then rise from the dead like a zombie and wash away the dirt. Just play dead. The dead feel no pain. The dead can't be hurt. Then rise from the dead like a zombie and wash away the dirt… _

Being grabbed roughly by the neck and pushed out of the car pulls her out of fantasy and into reality. After hitting the ground with a thud, she flinches as he spits in her face, shouting, "I ain't payin' good money for a stiff lifeless board. I can get that at home." Truth be told, he was new at this, and not used to the 'neighborhood'. The muffled gunshots from the adjoining alleyway actually scared him limp.

Sitting on the concrete in a daze, she wipes her face. As she pushes herself up from the ground to her feet, she thinks, _It always ends this way. _

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><p><strong>Part Two: First Responders <strong>

"Don't play dumb with me, just tell me what you saw."

The short blonde girl with the telltale facial features squints her eyes at Officer Finn Hudson. Rolling her head to one side she says, "But I am dumb, remember?"

Tapping his little note pad in his hand he replies quickly, "Don't try that with me. You're smart enough to have survived this long on your own. You're not a snitch, but you gave us the guy who shot up that bodega a few months ago. What gives? You know I'd never turn you over to child services." The rookie Mike gives Finn a puzzled look. This girl was clearly 15 at the oldest. She should be in foster care, not out running the streets.

Shaking her head resolutely, she declares once more, "I didn't see nothing." Finn realizes that there is only one person, technically two people, that Becky was afraid of, Beiste, her boss, and the enforcer Zizes. But that still didn't make much sense, Zizes would knock heads, and even put you in the hospital, but she wasn't a killer. Plus she took care of Becky; they all did. There had to be some other connection. Too bad for Finn, Mike is smart and asks Becky flat out if she's scared of Shannon Beiste.

Looking around nervously, Finn says, "You don't have to answer that Becky." Turning to Mike he says, "Rookie, I'll handle the questioning, thank you very much."

Too late, like a hound dog tracking a scent, Sue Sylvester descends upon them. "Actually, _I'll_ hand the questioning, and I thought it was a great question _Officer _Hudson." The way she says 'officer' makes Finn squirm.

Voice dripping in sarcasm, he replies, "_Detective_ Sylvester, I didn't realize that you still investigated the petty murders of hookers anymore. I thought they didn't get you enough TV face time."

With laughter in her voice that didn't reach her eyes, she answers with, "Now you see Hudson, that's why you will forever walk around with jelly stains on your collar. I can take one look at this vic and tell that she isn't a street walker, not by a long shot. And since I'm pretty sure you know all of the street walkers around here, you know that too." Mike gives Finn a look.

Nodding in agreement and not even bothering to hide his smirk, Finn says, "Maybe you're right, but there's no way that Zizes did this, she's no killer."

Mike speaks up again for the first time since Sue joined them. "How do you know? We all know that she's the main muscle for Shannon Beiste. They may wriggle out of every crime we try to pin on them, but you and I both know that Beiste is responsible for most of the drug related crime and at least half of all the other crimes that go down. Why else would Becky be scared?"

Giving Becky a visual once-over, Sue says, "I have to agree with half-baked on this one. Zizes may bring the pain, but she's no killer."

"There's a first time for everything."

Sue gives Mike a long searching look. She thought he was a rookie, but he smells of something else. She snorts softly. "You're awfully smart. Watch your back." Looking pointedly at Finn, she continues with, "We like our cops dumb as doornails around here. Safer that way."

Becky sticks to her guns and still refuses to cooperate. Unphased, Sue hands her a card and tells her not to leave town. As she watches Becky scurry off, she looks around and sees the shadowy figures milling around the alleyways doing shadowy deeds. They are always there, at the edges, avoiding all of the flashing lights, but they will move back in as soon as the badges clear out. Sue's pretty sure that at least one of them probably saw something, but getting those girls to talk was tough. The victim obviously wasn't one of them; judging by her high end clothing she appeared to be a well off single woman lost in the wrong part of town. After the body is removed, the crime scene techs move in. The first piece of evidence bagged is a binky of all things, caked in blood, found under the victim. Sue silently prays that it's just a coincidence, but her gut tells her there's no such thing as coincidences. "Uh Detective?" She looks as her latest piece of fresh meat named Rory Flanagan, practically right off of the boat from Ireland, and on the fast track in the Department. "W—we think we found the victim's car."

As she approaches the car, nice late model, but understated, she sees the car seat base and a diaper bag in the backseat. Half a bottle was there too. Sue releases a weary sigh, thinking, _It's never easy is it? And where is the baby?_ The only contents of the trunk are a takeout container from the DoubleA-DoubleC, and the usual tire iron, jack, and spare tire, thankfully no baby.

Finn and Mike run the plates, and quickly inform her that the car is registered to Shelby Cochran. The DMV photo looks a lot like the lady who was lying in the ally. Rory does a quick search revealing that Ms. Cochran is a famous retired Broadway star who recently moved back to her home state of Ohio from New York. Sue can see the resemblance between Ms. Cochran and another wannabe Broadway star. Stopping the medical examiner for one more look, she calls out, "Hey dough face and Jackie Chan, check out this gold necklace with the star charm that victim is wearing, and then take a step back, squint and tell me who you see?"

Playing along, annoyed, but game, Finn does as instructed. Shrugging he answers, "Rachel Berry?"

_zzzzziiiippppppp _

Nodding yes, Sue zips up the body bag and backs away from the gurney. "Bingo."

Officer Hudson thinks Detective Sylvester is full of shit. "You figure the karaoke queen did this?"

"Don't know, but maybe there's a connection? I have a hunch that it could be a good place to start."

"On what grounds? That the vic looks like she could be Rachel Berry's sis—mother?" Sue looks sharply at Finn. He flinches just a little, but not enough for Sue. Rory flinches enough for the both of them.

She looks at Mike who shrugs and says, with thumb towards his chest, "Rookie." Then he jerks his thumb at Sue. "Detective." Ignoring the sour look Finn gives him, he continues, "If you think there's a possible connection, it's too early to really say otherwise, right?"

Finn shakes his head in disgust. "Way to have my fucking back Rookie." Looking sideways at Sue, he sneers, "If I knew that was all it took to be a detective, I would've taken my test ages ago. Even a flatfoot like me coulda' guessed—t" Finn's little speech gets interrupted by the approach of a crime scene technician.

"Detective, you might want to take a look at this before we take it back to the lab. It was found in the vic's coat pocket." Not the usual protocol, but with a missing kid, he figured it could be important. He hands her a clear plastic envelope bag with a slip of paper inside.

Smiling a smile that again fails to reach her eyes, Sue looks at Finn and says, "Well would ya look at that? According to this little note, our vic _was_ the long lost mother of Ms. Berry. Turns out she came back to her old stomping grounds to try to reconnect with her daughter, since she recently adopted a new little girl named Beth."

After handing the bag back to the tech, without letting Finn get a clean look at it, Rory asks, "So that's it then? Rachel killed her mother because she was jealous over her success or the new baby that's getting the life she never had?"

Holding up her hand to silence Rory she says to the two cops, "Put out an Amber Alert for the little girl, first name and description only. We'll make a statement only after the body has been positively identified by next of kin. You know how to handle this. You two keep your eyes and ears open and let me know if you hear anything."

After a little nod, Finn and Mike are dismissed and climb into their patrol car. "You're not going to tell her shit are you?"

Shrugging, Finn nonchalantly replies, "No more than she'd share with me"

"So where to next?"

"I think it's time for you to meet Artie and have one of the best jelly donuts in all of Ohio. We've earned a little break. I'm gonna take you to the titty-bar."

Mike looks nervous. "But we're still on duty. I think we'd get into trouble if we went to a strip club."

Slowly banging his head on the steering wheel, Finn says, "Rookie, the titty-bar is just a nickname. It's not a bar, they don't serve alcohol, and there are no dancin' girls either. It's a diner called the DoubleA-DoubleC, 'cept every time I see it, I think of big and little tits."

Smiling, and hoping to smooth any feathers that he may have ruffled earlier, Mike says with a wink, "Don't you mean little tits and big tits?" It takes Finn a few moments, but eventually he gets it, and they both pull away chuckling.

…

Turning back to Rory, still standing there with his mouth agape Sue says, "It's almost never that easy. Shut your potato hole, use that brain of yours to follow the evidence, and learn to listen to your instincts. We're going to start with the victim's daughter, but I doubt she's our killer."

Looking like the wind had been taken out of his sails, he answers with a curt, "Yes sir." before he could stop it. Once it was out, he shut his mouth, not wanting to make the situation worse.

Sue laughs a loud, cackling laugh that makes Rory jump in his skin. "Well, well now, I sure got a live one this time? Let's see how long that Irish luck of yours lasts. That's three points to the rookie and you've only been on the job for a few hours." As he follows her to their car, Sue answers Rory's silent question. "You got a point for _not_ losing your lunch over the victim like my last partner. You got another point for your fancy-pants Google search information about the vic's Broadway past which got the old noodle thinking about Rachel even before the tech gave me that note." After taking a brief pause, she continues with, "Hell, I'll give you two points for that one since it also afforded me the opportunity to rub my superior intellect in the face of that knuckle-dragger in cop's clothing Hudson. I don't need evidence to know that he's up to no good." She looks the rookie in the eye and says seriously, "You watch your back around him, you hear me?" Rory nods yes quickly. "Okay, where was I? Oh yeah, and you just got yourself another point for calling me sir instead of ma'am."

After buckling himself into the driver's seat, he turns to Sue and asks, "How many points do I have to earn before you decide to keep me?"

Looking out the window at Becky, now back at work, she answers with, "Honestly, I don't know. We are in uncharted territory; nobody's ever gotten past three before." Sue lightly touches him with a finger on the top of his hand as it rests on the gear shift, causing him to look at her as he shifts in to drive. "Everything that you've heard about me is true. This isn't going to be easy, but if you can hack it, when I'm through with you you'll be one of the best detectives in the city." Fixing him with a glare she leans in and whispers, "You still want this?"

Rory gulps so hard that his Adam's apple bops him in the chin as it slides up and down his throat. Nervous but confident he answers. "Yes sir, more than anything."

Settling herself back into her seat Sue says, "Well then, c'mon Lucky Charms, let's go and have a little talk with Rachel Berry about her mom."

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><p><strong>Part Three: Behind Closed Doors<strong>

Wiping the mist from the mirror, shower steam still swirling around her, Mercedes stands in the small bathroom looking at her self in the mirror trying to, and failing to see what Santana was always talking about. Another figure sporting a neat Mohawk, appears in the mirror next to her. To his reflection, Mercedes says, "I thought I heard you come in." He holds up a small wad of money.

"Is this it Mercedes?" She nods and buries her face in her hands, full of shame. "You have got to be the worst whore in history. When was the last time you actually turned a trick?"

Slowly she stutters, "This—this" But before she can finish he cuts her off.

"Not _tried_ to turn, _turned_".

She peeks at him in the mirror through her fingers, still covering most of her face. "Technically…." She lets the rest of the sentence fall away, unsaid. _Never._

Looking again at the wad of dirty cash in his hand and then at the back of her head, he asks, "Why the hell do you keep going back out?"

Finally dropping her hands to grip the edge of the sink, she shrugs and shoots back, "Why the hell do you keep me at all? What kind of pimp takes care of a girl that can't work?"

Dropping his tough guy act he leans against the door frame and says, "You work, just not like the other girls. You help me take care of them, and I know they give you money to give to me. It's aiight." Knowing that a mid-day shower meant that she had really given it the old college try, he jerks his head for her to come closer so that he can scan her quickly for bruises, bumps, and other indications that her likely shut down incited a beat down.

Knowing that he is worried about her makes her feel a little better. "I'm alright, just a few scrapes from when I hit the pavement after I got tossed out of the car."

Gripping her face in his hands, forcing her to look him in the eye, Puck tries to figure out if she is telling him the whole truth. "He didn't hit you? Cuz if he did, I'll take care of him. I know every lowlife that trolls my alleys and uses my girls."

Placing one hand on the one he had gripping her jaw, she answers with, "It was nothing that a hot shower didn't take care of, a few scratches and some slobber on the side of my neck. Nothing happened; I zombied out, we heard some gunshots, and then I got tossed."

"Yeah, heard some rich lady bought it in the alley. It's getting more and more dangerous out there." Straightening up suddenly he says, "If it's really that hard for you, you need to just stop trying, like for real. What ever keeps running through your head and pushing you back out there, you tell it to shut the fuck up. I know for damn sure that I'm not making you, and I don't want you to end up like Sunshine; killed and dumped for not being able to do your job." He lets go of her face, his expression dark.

Mercedes closes her eyes and thinks about Sunshine. Even though the girl had been only two years older than her, she had been with Puck since the beginning. She had come to America from the Philippines to go to school and to make it as a singer, but she had a lot of trouble adjusting. Her student visa ran out and instead of asking for help, she faded into the shadows. And that's where Puck found her. Eighteen and fresh out of juvie himself, he had no idea what he was doing, but he had to do something, so he started collecting lost and broken women like stray cats. She started out as one of his best.

"It's a fucking miracle that you're still around."

Turning back to look at herself in the mirror, Mercedes answers with, "Maybe, but Santana has taught me a lot about blades." Mentioning Santana brings a smile to both of their faces and chases away the clouds brought by Sunshine.

Stepping up behind her, turning his mind to other matters, Puck says, "I wish I'd gotten here 10 minutes ago. Then I would have heard you singing in the shower." The look in his eyes shifted, it was no longer tinged with concern and sadness, but sparkling with excitement and arousal. Mercedes swayed on her bare feet and unconsciously checked her towel to make sure that it was wrapped firmly. Once again she stood looking in the mirror to see if she could see what he saw, the girl that would get a guy like him going.

Puck may be a nice guy, but he was still a pimp. He had slept with every one of his girls at least once. It came with the job. Some of them had absolutely no idea what they were doing and it was less about sex and more about making sure they could handle the job, and knew enough to make money and stay safe. He didn't do the ones with boyfriends and kids, and he didn't have anyone under the age of 18 working for him. That kind of shit would get you arrested quick, or make you too popular with the wrong kind of crowd. At almost 21 he was young, but he knew his way around and he was fair. He knew that he could make more money, take more money to get himself nicer stuff, but he knew that meant more hours out for his girls, and he tended to attract the dreamers. More hours meant less time with family, less time to try and go to school (usually of the beauty variety), less time to think of a way out, and more opportunities to not come back at all. It's not like there was a retirement plan for hustlers. Either you worked your way to something better or you died tryin'. He could tell right off which ones were going to make it and which ones weren't. Those who couldn't handle it he sent over to the Glee Club, the StarBar, or the DoubleA-DoubleC. Some stayed and worked like Santana, others would eventually disappear again, lost forever. He knew from day one that Cedes would never make it, but something about her made him keep her closer rather than sending her away. Sunshine had been the only exception. He never saw her light dying until it was too late.

Knowing what she was thinking as she stood there, Puck wraps his arms around her waist so that she could lean back and rest her head on his shoulder. Living with Mercedes and Santana in their dingy one bedroom apartment meant that Puck knew a lot about Mercedes and Santana, in the biblical sense and every other way too. They were two of his best friends and sometime lovers, and he was their strong arm or shoulder to cry on. Mercedes carried her pain just under the surface, but Santana buried hers so deep she tried to fool herself into thinking that it wasn't there anymore. Only in that little apartment did the walls come down.

Turning to look up at him, she asks, "Do you need me to…"

Without hesitation he responds with, "I don't need anything."

She puts her hands on his shoulders, standing on tip-toe to bring her mouth closer to his ear. "But I'm short today because of what happened in the alley with that rich lady, and..."

Annoyance clear in his voice, he repeats, "And? So what; shit happens. You know I hate it when you do this. We've been together now for over two years and you ain't never given me money that you earned from turning tricks, cuz you are the sorriest hoe on the block, and just about everybody knows it." His words may seem harsh, but his tone was soft and his eyes were amused. "You know I love you, and if you want a ride on Puckasaurus, I will always oblige, but don't do it because you think you owe me. You're a whore that isn't a whore, and don't know how to be one no matter how hard she tries, _and_ I'm too good to take any kind of advantage of you. But you better not tell nobody; I got an image to maintain."

Sliding her hands from his shoulders to the back of his neck, she turns her eyes up at him and whispers, "Maybe I want to."

Knowing that she almost never wanted to, Puck gives her an out. "Let's go out and do bed check. If when you get back you still want to, I'm all yours." He could literally feel the relief wash over her body, making him tingle and her glow. She gives him a sweet kiss, one that's quite a bit more than friendly, and although Puck has risen to the occasion, he's not going to take the bait. Instead he pulls her into a tight hug. He hears her murmur thanks as she presses her face into his chest, and he thinks, _Damn, your daddy really fucked you up, didn't he? Fucked with your body, fucked with your mind, fucked with your emotions; just fucked it all up._ Sighing heavily, and pulling out of the hug, holding Mercedes at arm's length, he gives her a look that starts at the top and works its way all the way down and back up to her eyes again. "Girl, you besta get dressed and stop messing with my emotions. Shit, with your looks and that voice you only unleash in the shower, the things you could do to me if you put your mind to it. To us all. You could really go places, maybe even far enough to get us out of this shithole."

Giving a little wry chuckle, Mercedes says, "Santana says the same thing."

"I bet she does, but you don't see it."

Very quietly to herself, Mercedes murmurs, "She says that too."

…later after getting dressed

As she watches him slip the small old school revolver behind his back she asks, "Why do you even bother bringing that thing? Is it even loaded?"

Pulling his 'woman please' face, he answers with, "Yeah it's loaded _and_ I know how to shoot it."

"But you never have, have you?"

Puck shrugs. "No, probably never will, but no one out there needs to know all of that, now do they?" She rolls her eyes into the top of her head. "I just don't get it."

"You don't have to _get it. _Look at this."

Redirecting her eyes back to him, he displays his now empty hands to her. She frowns and says, "Look at what? I don't see any_thing._"

"That's right, cuz I gots no fucks to give."

Full of sass, Mercedes shoots back, "That's not what you said earlier."

Arching an eyebrow at her, he says, "Well that was before you started nagging me, _again_ about my piece. Seriously woman, I give you an inch and you take a fuckin mile. I've explained this to you before." His voice drops as he carefully enunciates each word. "It. Keeps. Us. Safe." For a second, Mercedes thinks that maybe she's pissed him off, but rolls her eyes once more when he adds, "Well, that and the other guns of course." (Which he says as he flexes each arm, giving the top of each bicep a kiss.)

Smiling, voice full of mock incredulity, she asks, "How am _I _still alive? How _you_ are still alive under all that tough guy bullshit you drop, I just don't know."

Smiling right back, but eyes showing a hint of steel, he replies. "I'm only nice to my girls, Becky, and a select few beyond that; errbody else can suck it. You know I knock just as hard as The Enforcer when I have to."

"Yeah, I know, I've wrapped your bloody knuckles a many a night."

He bows at what he considers a compliment. "So then get off my ass about my piece. It's a last resort, but always an option. And if I had to, I would use it."

Mercedes knows that he is thinking about Sunshine again. Somehow the cops had managed to get the guy before he had tracked him down. He'd do the same for her or anyone he actually cared about.

Stopping just in front of the door, he turns and says, "Hold up for a sec. Have you seen my cell?" Wondering exactly how he managed without her in the beginning, she giggles and points to the phone on the end table. "Yuck it up, but I swear it wasn't there when I left this morning." She just laughs even harder. "Whatever." Holding the door open for her, he says, "After you."

Nicest pimp ever.

* * *

><p><strong>Part Four: Bed Check<strong>

In a nutshell, bed check is the part of the early evening when Puck collects the money earned on the previous night from all of his girls. He checks to see who is working and who isn't, and more importantly why. He didn't have that many girls, but he had enough to cover rent, bills, some light entertainment, the occasional unexpected expense, and to keep the car running. Mercedes came at first to keep him company on her way to see San at the Glee Club, but then she turned it into another way for her to bring in money when she realized that the number one (legit) reason for missing work was child care. Usually the girls could still count on their mamas, or baby-daddy's if they were still around, but if not, Mercedes would watch them. (And yes, Puck usually gave her some money so they could get ice cream or something at the diner, after they got San at the Glee Club…_softy_). The later in the week, the more likely Cedes help was needed. Being Monday, all of his girls were out, and their babies safely tucked into bed somewhere. Monday was a high stress day and they were there, waiting, after they kissed their wives goodbye, or closed their books from studying, to help the everyday man release some of that stress. The way Puck saw it, it was all his money, and with Mercedes around they could make more of it.

Reaching the end of the strip, where Puck would turn left and Mercedes would cross the street to head over to the Glee Club, Puck fixes Mercedes with a blush inducing stare. "Don't forget, if you want it, I'll be waiting."

After Puck leaves, Mercedes waits for traffic to slow so that she can cross the street. Looking left one more time she sees him, the blonde in the shiny car. He did come after all. Even in the twilight, the streetlamp illuminates the interior of his car as he coasts slowly by. His eyes are trained on her, and as the car passes, his neck cranes to keep his vision of her in view. He only looks up when he hears a voice shout, "Hey, watch where you're drivin', I'm walking here." Slamming on his brakes, he actually chuckles as the tall drag queen in a too-short dress whacks the hood of his car with her purse. Getting a better look at the driver, the queen decides that maybe almost being run over by that blonde Adonis wouldn't be so bad after all. She lets out a loud, looping whistle. Patting the spot on the hood where her purse just landed, she purrs, "Sorry about that. I can make it up to you, ya' know. Just let me know if you ever need me to honk your horn." The driver chuckles again, and the drag queen gives him a wink and saunters off. He turns all the way around in his seat to glance back at Mercedes one more time before pulling off.

Mercedes turns the exchange over in her head. He took that really well. Honestly, any other guy would have run poor Sandy over or at least pretended to. For some reason she was smiling like a kid on Christmas morning. "One day he's gonna stop and you're gonna get into that car and he's gonna take you away from all of this."

"Hey Sugar." Mercedes' smile fades away, like his taillights. "I've told you a million times, I don't think he'll ever stop."

Standing closer, making her glassy doe eyes even larger, Sugar insists, "He will. His eyes say that he will, the way he looks for you, at you, through you, into you. He's just getting up his nerve." She nods her head too many times as if that would make it so. "You know that urban legend of the pretty woman who beats the game and makes it out? That's gonna be you Cedes, I just know it."

"Sugar, you're the only millionaire crack-whore I know." Maybe coming from money made her a little disillusioned? Like a den mother, the instinct that Sugar always stirred, she asks, "Why are you still out here? You lived the real fairytale and threw it all away to get high. I know it's been almost a year since you last talked with your dad, but he still loves you and he'd take you back in a heartbeat."

Unable to look Mercedes in the eye, Sugar executes a wobbly 180, head down. "Maybe, but with the way things are now he'd ship me off to rehab and I'd say 'no, no, no'." Turning back around, she gives Mercedes a weak smile. "Besides, there's only enough magic out here for a few legends to come true and you'd make the most of it. I'd probably just smoke it all away. _You_ are the pretty woman, not me."

"Well maybe I don't wanna be." It's Mercedes turn to look down at her feet. "Sugar, listen to me. You need to forget all of that and just go home. Urban legends are scary, bloody, and never have happy endings."

"Well fairytale then, like you said I had."

The image of the blonde flashes across Mercedes' mind's eye before she remembers who and what she really is. "I stopped believing in fairytales a long time ago."

With a glazed look in her eyes, Sugar says, "I still believe."

Sugar was an enigma, small and kinda fragile, always looking a little nervous and strung-out on something or other, and never without her cotton candy crochet hat. Her mom made that hat for her the year she died of breast cancer and Sugar vowed to wear it until it fell apart. Life on the streets hadn't changed the vow. Whenever she crashed at Puck's, Mercedes would sneak the hat off of her head and patch it up. Even though Mercedes had made her a knit sweater dress to match, Sugar thought her hat was magic, but Mercedes was really the magic. Voice full of concern, Mercedes asks, "Sugar, do you have a place to stay tonight? Have you even eaten anything? You wanna—" But, Sugar has already started to drift away. Watching the silhouette of the other girl fade into the night, Mercedes shakes her head, crossing her arms in frustration.

All alone with the night beginning to close in on her, Mercedes crosses the street and turns the corner heading for the Glee Club.

* * *

><p><strong>Part Five: The Glee Club<strong>

"Hey Big Bubba."

Standing at well over six feet, weighing in at over 300 pounds, Big Bubba was aptly named. Like most of the men in her life who were permanent fixtures, his girth made him look tougher than he really was. Even The Beiste had tried to recruit him to work with The Enforcer after he blew out his knee and lost his football scholarship to OSU. Unlike Lauren, Marcus didn't really like violence. He liked the game of football and was good at it, and once that was over he really didn't have the degree or the smarts to do something that didn't require a man of his size and stature. But to work with The Enforcer meant being a bully, something he'd never needed to be. His size intimidated just about everybody, so he'd made it all the way through school without ever having to hit anybody. Will paid him to man the front door of the Glee Club and to help keep the peace inside, and he only had to fight when some ass was feelin' their beer muscles. Most of the time, the worst he had to give or get was a black eye or a busted lip. One time he got jumped by a gang of kids he'd banned from the Club for life. They had brought bats, and he would have been in real trouble if Puck and Santana hadn't been around. But even that night makes Big Bubba smile. That was the night he met Az.

"Hello there pretty lady." He walks inside with Mercedes and is still there talking with her and Santana when Will Schuester approaches them.

"Just what's going on over here?" Looking at Marcus he says, "I don't pay you to park your Mack truck on a stool." Focusing on Santana, he says, "… and I don't pay you to stand around chit-chatting." Looking at Cedes, with a lusty chuckle he says, "I don't pay you at all, but I'd like to." She never knows what to say whenever he says that to her, so she just smiles.

Santana knows what to say, and fires back, "Whatever, this perv knows that it's as slow as shit in here until most of the guys get off of work and have dinner with their wives anyway."

Will gives Mercedes a wink and San a quick slap on the rear before walking away, hollering over his shoulder, "I know, I just wanted an excuse to hit on Cedes and tap that ass. See you tomorrow Cedes." She can't help but giggle. It was a stupid little game that they played every single time Mercedes came in to visit Santana, which happened almost everyday.

Rolling her eyes, Santana says, "Look at Holly Holiday over there." Big Bubba takes that as his cue to leave. "She's old enough to be my mother, with her tits dragging to the floor, but she brings in more money than any of us. Not because she's hot, but because she has the right attitude that loosens the wallets of all those old fart-lonely hearts that like her type. She makes 'em feel like she really cares and ones fall like rain." Both girls turn to look at the topless blonde woman slowly twirling around the center pole to some eighties pop music that must have reminded her of when she was their age. "Now me, I have to _werk_ my tatas and S Lo booty to get anywhere near the amount of dough she makes, cuz one look in my eyes and it'll chill your heart."

"Not mine."

"No, you're my girl, but these fools who come in here? I could care less. I have to twirl my tassels hard to keep them distracted." Touching her arm, Santana continues to say the same thing she said at least once a week. "But you? You have the total package, the caring look and the nice rack and booty to work. You would make more money than me and that brassy hag combined." And just like always, Cedes shakes her head in disbelief. "But you don't believe it and you're not even at a point where you could fake it. One day Cedes you'll see what we all see. And I ain't just talkin'bout dat ass!"

Mercedes gives 'dat ass' a little, half-hearted shake and bursts out laughing. Seeing Will eyeing the exchange from a far corner, Santana grabs her arm and says, "Come on girl; let's go get something to eat before that curly topped lech comes back. _Or_ we get a customer under the age of 55 and I actually have to start working early."

**End Notes:**

In about two weeks, **CH 2 Prime Suspects**- Off to the DoubleA-DoubleC Diner we go! As the story roars on, our web around Mercedes will grow; connecting her to Finn, Mike, Artie, Tina, and it will finally bring her face to face with Sam. Mercedes truly is the tie that binds.

Must-use words used- dick (for me because I've never used it for anything other than a Jesse St. James insult), titty-bar (for Emz), and 'I gots no fucks to give' (for Bubblezzify*).

Make me squirm. Keep the must-use words coming, _por favor_ ;)

*your review was beyond outstanding, I LUVVVED it

Yes, the drag queen was The Pink Dagger. _And_ the blue collar from part one with the limp dick was Ken Tanaka. (I told you they would all be in this story, one way or another).

Thanks for reading and I hope that you liked it!


	3. CH2:  Prime Suspects

**Disclaimer: I own nothing…'tis a shame, but 'tis true**

**CH 2: Prime Suspect(s)**

**Dear Readers: The last two weeks have flown by! Thank-you for all of the support and the outrageously amazing reviews. Remember, the warnings are in Ch ½. **

* * *

><p><strong>Introduction: Finally, face to face, Mercedes feels something stir that she hasn't felt in so long she almost doesn't recognize it. Hope. <strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Part One: The DoubleA-DoubleC Diner<strong>

Finn looks at Mike expectantly as he takes a bite out of the simple looking old fashioned cake donut. "Th—is has…to be the…best donut…" He gulps down the bite. "That I've ever tasted."

"Told ya Rookie." Finn laughs and high-fives Artie as Mike stars shoving the rest of the donut into his mouth.

From his chair, Artie says, "What can I say, Mama C-Chang ain't no joke in the kitchen."

"What about _Mrs._ Cohen-Chang?"

The three guys turn and watch as Tina, Artie's wife comes out of the back. "Baby you ain't no joke neither, but you know I don't like to put our business out there like that!" She pretends to be embarrassed, but stops to give him a rather indecent kiss before refilling Finn and Mike's coffees.

Mike turns to Finn. "So this is your old partner Artie, the one you saved?"

"In the flesh."

"Cool, I've heard a lot about you from Finn. I think he wishes I was you."

All Artie can do is flash his big toothed smile and say, "Don't they all man, don't they all."

"But…" Finn starts speaking again. "We still get to hang now that he helps run the diner."

Looking at Tina, Mike says, "I bet you love that, him still hanging with all of his cop buddies?"

She shrugs. "It keeps out the riff-raff." She hears Artie's loud snort in her ear. "It keeps out the _dangerous _riff-raff. Besides, most of those girls are our friends and loyal customers." She hands Mike an amulet on a piece of thin black leather. He looks at her, kinda surprised. "It's from my mother, she's pretty old school." Very rapidly in Cantonese she adds, "Be careful and watch your back." Mike accepts the amulet with a slight bow of his head. That's his second warning of the day.

"Well look at that Rookie, I've been coming in here for years and I've never gotten a present from Mama C-Chang…unless you count heart burn!"

From the back Mama C-Chang can be heard shouting, "Quit your lying Hudson. I never gave you heart burn and you know it!" They are all laughing as her shouts descend into slurs and insults in her native tongue, which Tina is only too happy to translate.

Just before their real dinner is served, Mercedes and Santana enter, having just left the Glee Club. "Hey Artie, Tina." The couple excuse themselves from Finn and Mike's table to greet their friends. Mama C-Chang pokes head out of kitchen, and comes out to greet the girls as well, peppering Santana with kisses while muttering something in Cantonese which loosely translated meant 'pretty demon blade'. Her greeting is just a sweet for Mercedes, whom she refers to as 'clumsy swan'.

Bit o back story: Mama C-Chang loved Santana and Mercedes, but fired them permanently after only one week on the job because Santana kept threatening her customers and Mercedes was lovely but hopelessly clumsy, breaking or dropping more than she could make. Working the slow hours didn't make them enough money to live on, and back then the strip club scared Cedes, so that's how they ended up on the street. Lucky for them the first car to pull over was driven by Puck.

After the older woman shuffles back into the kitchen, Santana takes a look around, and notices Finn and Mike sitting in a corner booth. Way too loud she says, "I thought for a second there that your mama made her special pork dish, but I see now that it was just _Officer_ Hudson." Mike wonders why everyone says 'officer' like it's meant to be an insult.

Just as loud Finn shouts back, "And here I was thinking that maybe they needed to take out the trash, but I see now that it was just your cunt."

Completely shocked at his partner's use of words generally reserved for the guys, Mike looks back and forth between Finn and the exotically pretty new girl. The black girl with her acted as if this was normal, and neither Artie or Tina looked phased. Thinking, O_kaaaay_… He says, "Ladies, would you like to join us?

Santana gives him her stink-face. "Hell no Jett Li and you _must_ be new here. I wants to keep my food down and if I have to eat it across from his ugly mug I'd be spraying it all over you."

Artie chuckles and says, "Truth." Mike watches hiding his amusement as the other woman guides the Latina over towards a booth in the opposite corner of the diner.

Before they go three steps Finn calls out. "Mercedes, I require your services." Mike's eyebrows disappear under the brim of his hat for the second time. Was Finn openly soliciting a prostitute in front of him?

Santana whips around, her ponytail flying. Mercedes answers. "What?"

Santana asks, "Yeah what did you just say?" Only Finn notices her fingering the base of her ponytail. He knows all too well what she kept hidden there.

"She is my informant, remember? There was a murder not two hours ago in the alley." Mike looks at Finn.

Artie rolls over with two menus, since now Santana and Mercedes have a real reason to sit with Finn and Mike. He answers for Finn. "Chill Rookie. Cedes tells Tana everything anyway. There's nobody else here that'll say anything."

Somehow, Santana manages to keep all of her food down while Finn fills them in on the murder/kidnapping. During the canvas some other uniforms had found the empty car seat in a dumpster, but the baby is still missing. Mercedes is the one who ends up spraying her drink across the table when she learns of the victim's name, Shelby Cochran. Still coughing and fighting for her breath, she manages to squeak out, "Went down the wrong pipe."

Neither girl tells Finn that Puck is Beth's father or that he'd met with Shelby before she was killed. Mercedes wasn't exactly the best confidential informant. She knows that Puck didn't do it, but she'd be damned if she was going to fess up and then trust _Officer _Hudson to come to that conclusion on his own.

* * *

><p><strong>Part Two: Flashbacks are a Real Bitch (1) <strong>

…**Demons & Donuts **

"Hey, I've never seen you out before." Taking in a deep breath, Mercedes puts on what she hopes is a come-hither smile, and leans down to peer into the car. "I've been looking for a new friend. You wanna play?"

She nods yes and gets into the passenger's seat. "What game are we gonna play?" As soon as the door closes and the car pulls away she realizes her mistake. It's just her luck that on her first time out, she gets picked up by a cop.

But it's not just any cop, it's Finn, and he makes it a point to sample all of Puck's wares before they get all worn out. Honestly, it's usually not a problem because he does keep an eye on them and keeps the real boy scouts with badges who do their jobs, away.

Unfortunately, everything goes haywire in Mercedes' head, with her already feeling like the ultimate disappointment after Puck spent all that time helping her get ready, her stupidly thinking that she could make up for the loss of Sunshine, and now about to get arrested.

It's 'Fight or Flight', and her body chooses fight but her mind cancels it out, so panic attack it is. Finn knows something is wrong almost immediately, but he really shits a brick when she clutches her chest and slumps over in the front seat of the car. Looking around he sees too many eyes that know his personal car staring back, so he can't just dump her and run. Instead he takes her to the hospital, claiming to have found her like that, in the end earning him a commendation.

After checking in at the station, and picking up his cruiser and new partner Artie, he spends the rest of the afternoon hanging around the hospital to see what she was gonna say after she woke up. That and to look at Puck's newest other girl, a tight little Latina number who apparently had as much of a hard-on for the black girl as he did. Finn wonders where she had been hiding. After the black chick woke up pretty fuzzy with the particulars, the Latina finally acknowledges his presence and saunters over to him with a coy grin on her lips. "You brought her in?"

"Yeah. You grateful that I saved your friend's life?"

"Yeah." Before she can thank him, she catches the look on his face.

"Just how grateful."

Santana looks sour, but not surprised. She thinks, _You dirty pig_. She says, "Fuck you. I don't do that shit."

Finn gets in her face. "Look, you're new here J LO so let me tell you how things work around here. I know your little friend over there works for Puck. Now generally I look the other way when it comes to your pimp and all his whores. And I make sure everyone else looks the other way too." He traces a very light finger across her collarbone, knowing the action was hidden by his body. He smirks as he watches her shiver at his touch, thinking that she was turned on. The look in her eyes isn't excitement, it's revulsion, but Finn gets them confused all the time, and honestly, as long as he got his he could care less. "A little ass goes a long way with me, comprendé?"

Santana cuts her eyes at him and answers, "Sí."

Grinning, Finn says, "Now that we're speaking the same language, let me ask you again, just how grateful are you?"

Santana signals towards the door and his parked car beyond. "Very grateful."

As he watches her walk out ahead of him, Finn says, "Now you get to meet my fuck stick."

Just before climbing into the cruiser, Santana replies, "Can't wait."

It just goes downhill from there.

Somehow, he's still not too sure how, she manages to handcuff him to the steering wheel. Now he's sitting in his car trapped and she has a blade that he's pretty sure she pulled out of her hair pressed against his neck, and another threatening to shorten his now limp fuck stick. She hisses, "I'm not gonna cut you, you grateful?"

"Yeah."

Leaning in closer, she whispers, "Just how grateful?"

Finn cannot believe this. "You know what? Fuck you bitch. I have a badge, who do you think is gonna win in the end? When I get out, your ass is mine."

Taking the blade at his neck and running it from one side to the other, from ear to ear, she says, "You know what, you're right, I am new here. Clearly I'm not in charge. I'm just the bitch, holding the blades and you're just the stoopid dick stuck in his own cuffs."

"Dick with a badge, get it right."

Santana actually laughs. "Something tells me that you wouldn't say a mumblin' word." Pressing the tip of the blade into his throat again, she continues with, "Of course it's kinda hard to talk after…" Breath tickling his ear she whispers, "You don't think I'd do it? Go ahead, look me in the eyes. Estoy muy loco, comprende?"

Without moving his head, his eyes lock onto hers. What he sees there not only scares him, but makes him feel suddenly cold. "Sí. Wh—what do you want?"

"Now that we're speaking the same language?" She chuckles again. "I don't want anything." Finn feels relieved, for about two seconds. "But Cedes needs money. She ain't never gonna cut it on the strip. You make her your CI, give her a little cash every now and then on the regular, and I promise to forget that this little misunderstanding ever happened." Finn can tell that she will never forget. "It's a good deal. You get to keep your little fuck stick and Cedes is always around and don't nothing go down on the strip that she doesn't find out about eventually."

"No." Confidential Informants, official ones, are kept on record with the Department.

"And here I thought we had found our common ground." She presses, and Finn is certain that he can feel a drop of blood slide down his neck into his uniform collar.

"O—okay, okay, deal."

Smiling brightly, Santana says, "Good. You keep your word or you will wake up to your fuck stick on the pillow." The thought of double crossing her had never crossed Finn's mind. Okay, that's a lie, but since he firmly believed that she would maim him, he figures that this once he will keep his word. Finn nods slightly, causing the blade to dig into his neck a little farther. Santana finally retracts them. "Unless it's business related, you leave us the hell alone. We're not on the whore smorgasbord, got it?"

"Yeah, I got it."

About an hour or so later, Finn's partner, Artie finds him like that. "Seriously man? This is the third time this month. I ain't just here to help you out of yo' freaky-deaky messes. Keep that shit at home, behind closed doors like everybody else…"

Let's just say that Finn tries to push up on the wrong girls an awful lot, and that he tends towards the ones that actually push back.

* * *

><p><strong>Part Three: A Trip to the Stars<strong>

**...The StarBar**

"We aren't open yet."

Rory looks around pointedly at the blonde passed out at the end of the bar, the bearded man at the other end looking at sheet music, and the pale boy with the tall hair doing his best lady gaga on the stage. He gives the barkeep a dubious look. "They don't count, they practically live here." Sue flashes the badge on her hip. "I guess we can open a bit early tonight."

"Good guess. We need to speak with Rachel Berry."

Never taking his eyes off of the detectives, Dave shouts out, "Yo, Tinkerbell, you got visitors."

Permaplastic smile firmly in place, Rachel Berry makes her grand entrance from the back room. Hand already outstretched, she offers it first to Sue and then to Rory, squealing as she does, "I just love new faces! Are you here for a little karaoke party fun time?"

Sue looks to still be processing the unwanted touching. Rory clears his throat. "No ma'am."

Having found her voice, Sue takes over, quickly stating, "We are here about your biological mother, Shelby Cochran."

"What about her?" Rachel's smile starts to falter slightly. "Sh—she didn't change her mind did she? She said that she would help me, make up for abandoning me all those years ago. She admitted that I had real star quality. Did she send you here to intimidate me?" Narrowing her eyes at the detectives, Rachel squares off her shoulders, placing her fists on her hips. "You should know that I don't give up or scare that easily."

Sue cocks an eyebrow at Rory, who is furiously pretending to be taking notes. "Ms. Ber— "

She cuts Sue off to continue her verbal tirade. "You tell her that she can't just pop into my life and then right back out without helping me. It's not fair. I deserve so much more."

"Ms. Berry, if you'll just let me explain why we're here."

"No." Finger outstretched she points it directly into Sue's chest. "Don't you Ms. Berry me. I'm still in my early twenties. Besides, I can already tell why you are here. You just turn right back around and tell my _mother_ that I will accept nothing less than everything due to me."

"Don't touch me again."

Rachel pulls back her finger, looking at it as if she didn't realize that she'd extended it in the first place. "Whatever, just tell her what I said."

"No, that will not be possible."

"Anything is possible. It has to be. I wouldn't still be here if I stopped believing that." Rachel stepped forward her hand going up again as if she was going to touch Sue one last time for the hell of it.

"Touch me and I will gladly arrest you for assaulting an officer." Rachel had just opened her mouth to start on another tirade, but Sue's statement catches her off-guard. She stands there with her mouth open, then quickly snaps it shut with a pop.

Frowning she asks, "What? Y—you're not thugs?"

"Thugs? Hardly. Lucky Charms is in a suit and tie."

Rachel shrinks back a bit more. "Reasonably well dressed thugs?" She shakes her head no.

Sue also shakes her head and flashes her badge and gun. "Detectives." Sue looks over at Rory. "Detective and Detective in Training." Rory tips his pencil at Rachel. She gives him a little wave with her fingers.

"Wh—what can I do for you, Det—tective….?"

"Sylvester."

"Detective Sylvester."

"First I need you to dial back on the crazy, at least while I'm around. If not, I may arrest you purely because I find you incredibly annoying."

"Sir, we've come to deliver bad news, where's your compassion." Sue turns to glare at Rory. "Shutting up."

Turning back to Rachel, Sue nods slowly. "No, you're right Rookie. I should at least tell her that her birthmother, Shelby Cochran was shot and killed earlier this evening in an alleyway not too far from here before I start to judge."

"Wh—what? Are you serious? We—we talked this morning abou…" Rachel stands there with a frown on her face.

Rory says genuinely, "I'm sorry for your loss."

Rachel just stares blankly at the detective with the thick accent. Then, like the wind, her entire demeanor changes. With a quick flick of her hand she says, "Bygones. I literally just started talking to her. She's the one who reached out to me, feeling all _maternal _because of her new baby. I had already steeled myself against the inevitable disappointment that was undoubtedly going to occur after she failed to fulfill all of the promises she was making."

Sue starts cackling. Settling herself down again, she asks, "You're not really all that broken up are you?"

Rachel scoffs at the idea. "I deal with disappointment every day; it's a part of the business. I can't let it get me down." Rory's jaw drops open and without even lookin, Sue reaches over and shuts it for him. "What do you want from me? You don't think that I killed her do you? Because I didn't. She's worth _way_ more to me alive. Alive she could help me get to Broadway, where she was. Besides, killing is dirty business, and I never do my own dirty business."

"Duly noted. When was the last time you actually saw your mother? You didn't by any chance have lunch with her today at the DoubleA-DoubleC did you?"

"No." Looking off into the distance at nothing in particular, Rachel responds slowly, choosing her words carefully. "We met the day she _first_ got into town, about a week ago, and once more yesterday. We only talked this morning on the phone."

"This neighborhood isn't exactly your mother's old stomping grounds. Did she mention other people that she was trying to reconnect with while she was in town?"

Rachel places a finger against her chin, as if she's really thinking about an answer. "She mentioned that she tried to meet with the new baby's birth mother. A real piece of work from what I gathered. She wanted nothing to do with her and…And…" Rachel's voice starts rising in pitch as she gets excited. "And she _threatened _Shelby for offering to bring the baby, b-be…"

"Beth" Rory supplies.

"Beth, thank you, around to see her. I got the impression that she didn't want her past rearing its ugly head in her new life."

Sue looks surprised that Rachel had something to offer worth looking into. "Do you recall the woman's name?"

"Quinn Faberge or something like that. I don't know, it sounded French. Or maybe I think that because Shelby said that for such a pretty girl she had quite a potty mouth" Turning her full attention back to the Detectives, she asks, " So what happens now?"

"We still need you to come down and officially identify the body, and then we keep looking for her killer."

Frowning once more Rachel asks, "What am _I _supposed to do? How will I ever get to Broadway now?"

Sue gives Rachel a weird look before turning to Rory. "We have to put together an official statement for the press release. And hopefully more people will come forward when they hear the news. You never know."

"Statement? As in to the press?"

Sue answers Rachel as if she is talking to a very young child. "Yes. There will be bright lights and cameras, and…" She pulls a face. "They may even make me wear a proper suit and makeup." She looks expectantly at Rory. "Lucky Charms, you wanna talk the press?"

"No sir, I do'ont." Sighing, Sue accepts defeat when his accent makes even those four words barely recognizable.

Rachel Berry steps into Sue's personal space one last time to ask her next question. Sue is looking down her nose into Rachel's brown eyes, her chin almost flush with her chest, with Rachel being so short and so close. "When…when will you make the official announcement?"

"You are one persistent little-person aren't you?" Rachel just nods. "As long as you make it to the morgue to positively identify the body _early_ tomorrow, then by tomorrow night the Department will make a statement on the six o'clock news."

A smile starts to pull at the corners of Rachel's mouth. "And after that I would be free to announce that she was my mother? To—to see if I could convince more people to come forward with information."

"If that's what you want to do." Sue leans forward, forcing Rachel to take a giant step back.

"One—one more question before you go."

Sue just shakes her head and mutters, "And here I thought I was the one asking all of the questions." She looks at Rachel. "Yes, your question."

"What time does the morgue open?"

"Eight am."

"Perfect. I'll be there with bells on." Rachel smiles that permaplastic creepy ass smile at them as they head for the door.

Kurt sits at the bar, watching the exchange intently through the reflection in the mirror behind the bar, having moved to the bar for a water as soon as Rachel made her appearance. Though his back is to them the entire time, he is keen to the conversation especially when he hears the words television, and Broadway. He is silent while Sue is there, but Dave can tell by the look on his baby-face that Kurt knows more than he is willing to disclose just yet.

Walking to the car, Rory can't help but ask, "What was that all about? At first she didn't care that her mother was dead, and now she wants to help?"

Sue replies flatly, "Help put her name and face out there, you mean. You know what they say, there's no such thing as bad publicity."

…**To the Moon and Back**

A nondescript black car pulls up next to Sugar and smiling she gets in. "Sugar, when are you gonna pay off your tab, in _actual_ cash."

"I thought we worked out that 'alternative' payment plan?" She wiggles her eyebrow at him.

"No, what we worked out was a temporary stay of payment until funds became available. I'm tired of just getting paid in ass, I need money. People are starting to ask questions."

"Well Matty, today is your lucky day." Reaching into her bag she pulls out a thick wad of cash. It's actually bound like it came straight out of a bank vault or something.

"Holy hell girl!" He pulls the car over quickly and grabs the money. Flipping through the bills, he watches as good ol' Ben winks at him on every damn one; he can tell that they are the real thing. "Where did this come from?"

"Daddy."

"What's he do, rob banks?" She starts laughing. He clenches her jaw between his forefinger and his thumb, squeezing hard enough to make sure that she feels it. "I'm not joking. Sugar, where did he get this kind of cash?"

Pulling her face away, she looks out the window as she answers. "He has tons, but he won't give me any more, cuz I messed up…told me this…" She points to the wad of cash. "…was it. …Over his dead body or some shit like that. I finally went too far and he's cut me off for good."

Matt is methodically running his fingers back and forth over the stack of bills. How the crack-whore had managed to keep this from him all this time he'll never figure, but immediately his wheels start turning. If the label is right, then he is holding $10,000 in his hands. And Sugar just had it stuffed in her Hello Kitty purse like it was nothing. Matt turns to look long and hard at Sugar. He'd always thought that she was just a strung out hoe in a sweater dress. If 10 grand meant nothing to her then she must have come from _real_ money. He's been focusing on the wrong daughter.

"Sugar, why didn't you tell me?"

"Cedes says that you're a wolf, a big bad wolf." Fingering her hat she says, "And she says that I'm little pink riding hood, and if I'm not careful you're gonna eat me." She looks lazily at him out of the corner of her eye. "I don't think that would be so bad."

"Maybe later, but I got some business to handle first. What's your real name baby?" In all the time that he's known Sugar, he's never called her anything but Sugar. As far as he knew she was like Cher, one name.

"Sugar, you know that."

"Sugar what?"

"Motta."

He replaces the vacant spot in her purse with some prescription pill bottles. Then he leans over and opens the door, giving her a little shove out. Before she closes the door he says, "You're covered for a while." She gives him a crooked smile and shuts the door. He watches her stumble off towards his place to crash.

* * *

><p><strong>Part Four: How They Do it On The Other Side<strong>

Opening the door, Sam is greeted yet again by an empty refrigerator. He closes the door hard enough to knock down one of the magnets on the outside and to rattle the 3 bottles of wine inside to their sides. Quinn comes downstairs to find him leaning over the counter with his head in his hand. "Hey. I thought I heard you come in." He looks up at her, running his fingers through his hair as he does.

"Dinner." It isn't a question, it is a statement.

"What about it?"

He scratches the back of his neck at an itch that isn't there. "Where is it? I've been out all day, running errands for you, instead of doing research, and the least you could do is have dinner waiting for me when I got home."

She thinks, _How domestic_. She says, "Well, I wasn't sure what you wanted, so I was waiting for you to get home so that we could order something together."

"I don't want anymore take out. I miss having a home cooked meal."

Her eyebrows go up and a small smile plays across her lips. "Well you certainly married the wrong girl then. I don't even know how to boil water." Smirking, she continues with, "But you weren't thinking about that when you married me were you?"

Sam, just like Quinn, had been raised in a religious household. Except unlike her, he took it pretty seriously. He honestly thought that because she slept with him that meant that they were supposed to get married and be together forever. Now it makes it easier to go along with all of this when you consider that if his family hadn't been in and out of shelters and motels for years, homeless or only just making it after moving to the big city from Tennessee. Otherwise he would have most likely spent high school and Junior college eyeballs deep in skirts. Lucky for Quinn, being homeless made him barely approachable and even more socially awkward than he already was, with all of those nerdy impressions and science fiction obsessions. It made him easy pickins. She had only been at the college barely a week after a last minute transfer, was overweight from the post-baby fat, and was surrounded by those she'd lorded over in high school. Sam thought that it was dumb luck that someone as beautiful and smart as Quinn was even interested in him. After Sam the nerd wrote a book and got paid, Quinn hooked her talons into him and never let go.

Quinn smiles at him, trying to get him to forget about the fact that she is essentially a free loader and would win the award for world's worst wife without batting an eye. She runs one long finger along the counter as she walks towards him. She then takes her hand and fixes his hair, brushing it back out of his face. Her hands end up running down his chest. He grabs her by the wrists to stop them from going any lower. "What? I'm not hungry, but I'm hungry, know what I mean."

He takes her hands off of his chest and holds them. "Maybe before, but not right now. I can't. I'm sorry. I'm just not ready." Quinn yanks her hands out from his, not caring that she scratched him with her nails as she does. "Don't be this way. It still hurts."

She backs away from him, evading his outstretched arms that are trying to pull her into a hug. "Oh my goodness, are you crying?"

He nods his head slowly. "How are you not? How can you be ready to do this, take this chance again so soon?"

Quinn scrunches up her face at him. "It's been months Sam. I thought it was impossible for guys to go that long. I know it's getting damn near impossible for me." She starts to smile, in an attempt to lift the rapidly souring mood.

"I thought parents never stopped grieving over lost children."

She sighs loudly, and lightly touches him on the arm. "Honey, you really have to move on. It was a miscarriage, in the first trimester, hardly a baby. We didn't even know if it was a boy or a girl."

Sam closes his eyes and tries to fight the pain that still aches in his heart for his lost baby. He had always pictured a girl, perfect, blonde, green eyed, beautiful. Closing his eyes doesn't wipe the image from his mind. They had never even discussed picking out a name, but he'd secretly purchased a small plot in a cemetery across town and on the headstone he had named his little girl Neytiri. The grave was empty, and was just something to make him feel better, but it did help. Wiping the moisture from his eyes, he thinks, _Maybe she's right; maybe I had no right to still be so broken up about a little life that had never been more than a blurry image on a sonogram. But maybe she's wrong._ Sliding away from her hand, he says, "I'll know when it's time to move on." He'd know it by the bearable ache in his heart. It would always hurt, but he knows that some day it would fade enough for him to be happy again. Dropping his shoulders in defeat, he figures that everyone dealt with grief in their own way.

Quinn turns her back to him and fights to remain calm and cool. He will get over it eventually. He will write again and after he makes more money off of the new book, she'll get pregnant again. She wasn't ready for her first baby, but she'd had that little blonde headed bastard anyway. It ruined her life. After she got married, and somehow got pregnant for a second time practically on her honeymoon even with precautions, she took care of it, and passed it off as a miscarriage to Sam. Hoping her face was at best full of pity and concern, and at worst neutral she turns back around and asks quietly, "Is that why you stopped writing?"

"I haven't stopped writing. I just feel like I need to write something different this time. Like I have this important story to tell but I just don't have all of the pieces together yet. It's not going to be like the other books. They were fun and popular, but superficial." He looks down, causing his bangs to fall across his face. "I have a little bit more life under my belt now, and I want say more with this next book. You know, I've lost friends too."

Eyes now wide with exasperation, Quinn holds up one hand, palm towards him. "Are you talking about that Pilipino girl from glee club?" She sets her neck at an angle and crosses her arms against her chest. "_Still Sam_? The miscarriage I get, but this girl?" Quinn can't believe that she married a guy who was in glee club, she honestly though all the guys in glee were gay. "Are you sure that she was _just_ your friend?"

"Yes, you know that." Anger is starting creep into his voice. "It's just that we're so young and already we've had so much heartache."

Quinn is worried that her cash-cow of a husband has lost his golden touch. They'd been married for less than a year and Sam's parents had insisted on a pre-nup. Something to do with a suspiciously short courtship. Try as hard as she could, he wouldn't marry her without it. Sam hadn't written a book since they got married, so divorce was out of the question as she would be penniless. Her job as the sometimes local weathergirl really wouldn't keep her in the life to which she had grown accustomed since she'd started dating and eventually married Sam. There was always Jesse St. James. He was definitely interested, and had the looks and personality to really go places; Lima just needed a big story to take him to the national stage. Then she could leave Sam. Uncrossing her arms, she gives him an apologetic smile. "Look, you'll feel better getting back into your old routine. Focus on the new book and then everything will fall into place."

He drops his attitude too. "I guess you're right. I'm going out to eat, you wanna come?"

"Do you need a jacket and a tie?" Sam remembers there being a diner, a cop hangout out in the neighborhood where he was doing his research. It was open 24/7 and there was always someone in there. He was pretty sure that he could be half naked and still get service. Sam frowns and shakes his head no. Quinn only wanted to go out if it meant going somewhere to be seen. "If I don't have to dress up and get all pretty then I'm not going."

"Quinn, I think you're always pretty." She doesn't have a response. She grabs the stack of take out menus and begins to flip through them. He grabs his keys. "I'll be back later. Don't wait up."

She just rolls her eyes as the door closes. She never does.

For some reason he is drawn back to that patch of neighborhood surrounding the strip. Thinking, _I was so late today, but she was still there._ That thought shouldn't make him smile, especially when he'd been fighting with his wife, but it did.

* * *

><p><strong>Part Five: Lingering Looks….<strong>

"Let's go home Cedes. I've had about as much of present company as I can handle." Santana looks at Mike. He seemed friendly enough, definitely didn't give off the creeper vibe like Finn, and it's not like he picked his partner. She's willing to give him a fair shake. "No offense Chang."

Quickly swallowing the sip of water he's just taken, Mike answers back quickly, "None taken." Seeing Finn settling the bill with Artie (more like weaseling his way out of it), he concedes, "I've only been with Finn for a few weeks and the only woman I've actually met so far that likes him is his mother." Santana offers him her fist, which he covertly bumps.

"What's so funny?" Mike cuts his chuckle off, turning it into a cough. Santana just sticks her tongue out at Officer Hudson. "Cunt."

"Pig."

Giving her a look of pure loathing colored with disdain, Finn motions with his hands towards the door. "After you."

Sliding out of the booth and heading for the door, dragging Mercedes behind her, Santana says, "Look real hard, that's all you'll ever get." She turns her head around, flipping her pony tail over her shoulder.

Mercedes is so busy looking back at Finn to make sure that he isn't looking that she runs into a patron entering the diner for a late dinner. All she sees is a flash of blonde and green before she can feel herself fall backwards. She falls straight back, and as if the move is choreographed for some elaborate dance, Sam fluidly follows the line of her body with his, checking her backward movement, holding her securely in his arms, keeping her safe and out of harm's way.

The way he catches her makes her feel as if she weighs nothing at all. Everything gets brighter, flashing Technicolor for a moment as his hands brush against the bare flesh of her arms, where he holds her. Peering down, he thinks, _Sad eyes, beautiful spirit._ She doesn't know what to think. This mystery blonde is the only guy other than Puck who has ever touched her _so…_so intimately without her completely flipping out.

Almost as quickly, he thinks that something about seeing her and touching her at this moment makes her real and approachable. Without the stigma of picking her up in the car on the strip, far in the back of his head he imagines this as the beginning of their friendship. He dips her slightly to get the leverage to lift her back up, leaning in close to the side of her face as he does. Only she can hear him whisper _**tomorrow**_against her ear.

The entire exchange takes less than 30 seconds, but it feels like an eternity to Mercedes. Instinctively she reaches to blanket his hand with her own as he continues to apologize profusely for running into her. "I'm so sorry. I'm Sam, by the way, Sam I am. But I'm not here for green eggs and ham." He is grinning foolishly, for the time being not caring about how silly he sounds. He dips his head towards her expectantly, waiting for a response.

She just gives him a shy smile and an even shyer giggle, unable to respond to all of the weight behind his piercing green eyes. She can hear Santana mutter under her breath as she pulls her towards the door, "Oh my god, neither of y'all gots _any_ game." Mercedes is mesmerized as she watches a blush creep all the way up Sam I Am's neck, coloring his face bright red.

Finn and Mike brush past Sam I Am, ushering Mercedes and Santana out of the door. From outside, through the large front window he is still watching her walk away, and she knows that he's watching because she keeps stealing looks back at him. She chuckles aloud as she sees him walks into a table. Mercedes thinks, _He tends to do that a lot when I'm around. _

"Who's that dude?"

"Huh? Him…I don't know, never talked to him before in my life." She gives Finn a weird look. Big Brother hits too close to home with him if he thought that Sam was into something that he shouldn't be. "He's nobody."

"Okay, just keep an ear open about the shooting, alright?"

"Ok-aaay."

Once Finn and Mike are out of earshot, Santana smacks Mercedes hard on the ass. "Who was that boy with the lips like a trout?" Trying to shrug her off, Mercedes just pushes her back. "I don't care if you don't _know_ him. I'm not a dumb scarecrow like Finn, I knows that 'he's nobody' line was pure bullshit." Mercedes can't keep the smile off of her face. "You should go talk to him if you get the chance. A guy looks at you like that; it means something…like you mean something. You have to know him." Mercedes just shakes her head. She would never forget a guy like that if she knew him. No one could.

In the other direction…

Mike wonders aloud when they can start actively looking for witnesses to the shooting. "Rookie, we're keeping it quiet for now, but soon it will get a lot of attention. Shelby Cochran was a legit big star back in the day and when pretty stars come to the ghetto to die, it makes big news."

* * *

><p><strong>End Notes:<strong>

Neytiri- yes, the girl from Avatar

Up next in about two weeks, **CH 3 Tomorrow. **As in Mercedes and Sam will have a real conversation **tomorrow**! But I gotta warn you, a lot happens in CH 3 and already it's looking massively longer than CH 2. I am going to try and start updating every week, but I'm not making any promises.

Must use words used: cunt & fuck stick (for Jadziwine whose mind is clearly in the gutter!), hoe in a sweater dress (for thegoodwitch)…

All of the others are still in the queue and will pop up in CH3, CH6, CH12, and CH14. With them Sam will show Mercedes his nerd-boy side (thanks emzjuk), Puck will let Quinn know what he really thinks of her (thanks Bubblezzify), Puck will crack the Enforcer (thanks PrettyfulWishes), and Tina will get her revenge on Finn (thanks again Bubblezzify:) And Jadziwine, your other naughty words will be sprinkled throughout.

Thank you, Thank you, Thank you, for the suggestions. They often fit into the perfect scene I already have in mind, help me fix a problem spot I've been mulling over, or spawn a whole new piece on their own. Dirty, funny, nerdy, even MILDLY offensive, send them my way. I will do my best to find a place for them, because they will only make the story better.

And, Bubblezzify: I love long reviews, love them to pieces (and I am guilty of leaving a many a long review myself), and your review had _me_ fangirling!

Y'all know me, and sometimes I like to slip a bit more story in at the end…

* * *

><p><strong>Part 6: Flashbacks are a Real Bitch (2)<strong>

"Puck, we got something that you need to hear…about Beth a—and Shelby…"

…**Quinn Rode The Puckasaurus, And all she got was a stinkin' baby **

*flashback begins*

"You're go for Puck."

"It's me, Quinn."

"How did you get this number?"

"Don't sound _too_ happy to hear from me okay." Puck is silent on the other end of the line. "Your mom. She always did think that I was good for you."

"Only on the outside."

That makes Quinn laugh. "I guess you owe me that one. Can we talk?"

"Isn't that what we're doing?"

"C'mon Puck, I mean in person. I need your help with something." She gives him an address.

"Barbie, are you familiar with that neighborhood, emphasis on _the hood_?"

"Will you meet me there or not?"

"Fine, c'mon Barbie, let's go party…"

"Ha, ha, ha…"

Later, she pulls up and Puck thinks her shiny car looks out of place amid all of the gray. After he gets in, she hands him a small roll of bills. "What the hell is this about?"

"It's spring break, my senior year and I am almost done with school. I wanna have some fun and I was hoping that you could score me something. I don't care what it is as long as it's good and it doesn't kill me." He stares at her. "What, I just assumed that –"

"That because I lived around here that I'ma drug dealer?" She nods yes, not the least bit embarrassed.

"I guess you haven't really changed. Well I don't do that shit and neither should you."

Looking bored and rather annoyed, she asks, "Do you know where I can get some?"

"No place I'm gonna tell you about."

She pushes the little button, unlocking the doors. "Get out. I'll find some on my own."

Clearing his throat Puck flashes his piece. "Mine's just for show." He jerks his thumb at the alleyway they were currently facing. "You go out there looking like you just popped out of your plastic packaging and someone will wanna play with you. And they might not play as nice as I do."

Quinn beats her hands on the steering wheel in frustration. Relocking the door, she whines, "But I need _something._"

Puck gives his bottom lip a little lick, turning towards Quinn saying, "Now you know that I'm always good for a little sumthin' sumthin." Quinn decides to take him up on his offer.

It was fun and just as good as she remembered, but stupid. She ended up disowned, disgraced, and pregnant; forced to dropout and finish at a Junior college.

*flashback ends*

"Stupid story right?" Mercedes shakes her head. "She's a beautiful baby though. Nothing wrong with her at all." He swallows hard. "Why there haven't been any ransom demands. Is she…my little girl, is s—she dead too?"

Mercedes runs her hands over Puck's face and over is Mohawk. Santana rubs her hands across his back, gently kissing him on the back of his neck. Mercedes says, "No baby, Finn thinks that after the official announcement there will be a ransom call or something."

"I just found her."

"I know."

"I just…" Mercedes and Santana wrap Puck in a hug and let him cry it out. He can be tough again tomorrow.

* * *

><p><strong>Random Question: <strong>

So, _now_ do you hate her? Hmmmm, maybe just a little bit?

But not to worry if you don't, there are plenty of other characters for you to hate; Quinn isn't the only villain in this tale. They come in all shapes, sizes, and shades. Some are obvious, while others are more subtle.

Thanks for reading and I hope that you liked it!


	4. CH3: Tomorrow

**Disclaimer: I own nothing…'tis a shame, but 'tis true**

**CH 3: Tomorrow**

**Dear Readers: Thank you for all of the reviews, alerts, and favorites; seriously, I fall out with each one. The stuff you all write makes me wish I could post everyday! **

**Apologies up front: I'm sorry that this is so damn long, but there was A LOT of story to cover. And _ummmm,_ sorry for teensy weensy bit of sex. The story isn't smut, not by a long-shot, but I have to at least admit that sex is a part of our two central friendships and also that no matter how I slice it, it's a part that I can't ignore. I just couldn't tell the story without a little PucSanCedes in the mix. It's bittersweet and tragically pretty. Warnings are in CH ½.**

* * *

><p><strong>Introduction: To see how we got to where we are today, we will have to look back at where we were yesterday. Mercedes can't help but wonder if her dark past will taint her potentially bright future as she makes her first new friend in over a year. <strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Part One: Common Bedfellows<strong>

…**a Little Love Cocoon**

Mercedes wakes up today as she does most days, with Santana at her back in the middle of their little group, her arm in its usual spot wrapped around Mercedes' waist, hand snaked up her shirt, cupping one of her breasts. And as per usual, Puck is behind Santana. Mercedes can feel his hand working along the bottom edge of her shorts, and is willing to bet money that he's up already. She can hear Santana stir, light breathy moans tickling the back of her neck. The bed shifts as Santana presses back into Puck a little more. Mercedes is in such a good mood and feeling so good about herself that had this been any other morning she would have rolled over to give Santana at least a kiss and a cuddle, allowing Puck to roam well past the edge of her shorts with his fingers, but it was _tomorrow_. At noon today Mercedes Jones fully expects her life to change.

After rolling over onto her back, putting just a little bit of space between her and Santana, Mercedes gives the barest of peeks under her long lashes to Puck and Santana. The other girl has taken the hint and has relinquished her hold on Mercedes' breast, and is now moving to straddle Puck. Just before she can climb out of bed altogether, Puck reaches over and grabs Mercedes' hand. She gives them both a wide smile, leaning over to give him a quick peck on the cheek. Rising up on her knees, she gives Santana an identical peck before backing her way off of the bed. On her way to the bathroom to shower she can only giggle and say, "Have fun you two."

The only time she's ever woken up not scared was with them, and that has only been for the last 4 years, ever since she was 16. Before that, almost every night without fail she'd woken up crying, afraid, and wrapped in her blanket like a stiff mummy. Even after her dad was dead and in the ground, the fear and terror she felt stayed. Santana had given her her first fearless night later that year after he was killed. Once Puck came in the picture, she was okay most nights, as okay as she's ever been anyway. She still had nightmares, and she knows that she still spends scattered random nights tossing, turning, crying in her sleep, and probably letting out a scream or two, but still they held her tight, kept her safe, and never ever complained about it in the morning.

…**Puckzilla meets Pretty Demon Blade & Clumsy Swan **

*flashback time*

"Alright, make me proud." Sunshine just shakes her head and rolls her eyes at Puck's failed attempt at humor. "C'mon, not even one little giggle?" She shakes her head no, but a little smile is on her lips. He gives her a wink, saying, "That's what I thought."

She points with her pursed lips at two girls walking ahead of them on the sidewalk. "Good catch, babe. Looks like this is where you get off. Make me lots of money."

She is still shaking her head as she slams the door. It's loud enough that the two girls, one black and one Latina, turn around to look. They turn back around quickly as the car lurches towards them.

Puck slows to a stop next to them. The Latina leans down and says, "We come together." He can't tell if she meant the double meaning or not, but he can tell that they didn't know what they were doing.

"Okay. Get in." Both girls manage to slide into the front seat of his black 1967 Chevy Impala. Santana isn't sure what to do next. This guy isn't a cop, but this is their first time. He can hear the black chick whisper, "What the hell is supposed to happen now?"

The Latina's tough girl face begins to fall apart, and she just shrugs. Turning to him with a sigh, she says, "Okay, you know what just let us out. This ain't happening."

Puck simply answers with, "You got that right." But he doesn't stop the car, and he's not going to let them out. "Ya'all don't know what you're doing, do you?"

"What's it to you?"

"Nothing, but I can help."

"Just let us out."

He glances at them out of the corner of his eye. "Seriously, no game, just help." He keeps driving. Then he feels the prick of steel against the underside of his chin.

"I said let us out."

Puck is unphased. "I see girls like you everyday. How long do you think you'll last on your own out here?"

Thinking about the $20 dollars they had between the two of them and nothing else but one shared backpack, and no where to stay the night, their prospects were looking pretty grim. "Just what are you talking about?"

Giving them his patented Puckerman lip pucker, Puck says, "Come work for me. I'll teach you everything you need to know and keep an eye on you."

No even hiding the laughter and amusement in her voice, Santana shakes her head, saying, "_You're_ a pimp. You don't look any older than we do."

"Good genes." Feeling the knife blade back at his throat Puck once more looks at them out of the corner of is eye. "C'mon, Sunshine weren't no trick I was just dropping off. She works for me. I'm just offering; it's up to you."

Santana looks over at Mercedes who has been looking into Puck's eyes. She gives Santana a slight nod, and the blade is retracted.

…week one…

After taking them to a vintage clothing shop and thrift store for some clothes, plus some fabric because Mercedes could make dresses, Puck takes them back to his apartment.

_Plink, plink_. The girls look at the silver keys on the coffee table. "You can stay here until you get a place of your own. Just keep the place clean and we'll get along fine. When you're ready to start working, just let me know. Like I said before, it's up to you." Santana takes the keys and gives him a cautious nod.

Later that night in hushed whispers... "You okay?" Mercedes nods yes. Puck had a huge pimptastic king sized bed crammed into his bedroom. It is the biggest bed that Mercedes and Santana have ever shared, and they'd been sharing a bed on and off since becoming friends in middle school, and permanently after the courts granted Ms. Lopez custody of Mercedes after her parents died and her older brother went MIA in Afghanistan. Didn't matter the size of the bed, they were always as close as possible to the side farthest from the door, wrapped around each other tight. Even when things were looking better, for just a little while and they could have had separate beds, they always chose to be together, and they never learned to spread out. From his spot on the couch, Puck can hear the bed moving, and amid the rustling of the covers, what he imagines to be hushed kisses and quiet sighs. Puck does not sleep, not one wink, that entire first week, thinking instead in an endless loop in his head, _Oh my damn, what is this world coming to when I end up on my own couch with all that hot lesbian action going down in my own fucking bed?_

…week three…

Puck usually waited for them to come out before going into the doorless bedroom, but for some reason they still weren't up yet. He actually had somewhere to be, and needed to shower before leaving, and that means he has to go into the bedroom. He was good until he looked at them. With them both still sound asleep, he allows himself to look, just this once at them. He thinks, _Santana is a lot prettier like this, unguarded, soft and unconscious._ Puck isn't being perverted, but even in his place she walked around strapped to the hilt, as if he would ever. Noah Puckerman fancied himself a great lover of women, all women. And as he unconsciously begins to walk closer to them, he thinks that these are two women who could use a little love. His face is now just inches from their sleeping faces. _Now Mercedes on the other hand, I have to be careful with her. _She just started talking to him directly at the end of the previous week. He can guess exactly why she is never sure how loud she can laugh, how long she can let her lovely smile linger, or how much of his company she can handle on her own before she pulled away, afraid that he would find her too interesting and try something. Never, would he ever. Pimp, yes, but he's never had to make someone do something that they weren't already willing to do, and there were always women ready, willing, and able to do things to him.

Still, he can't keep the smile from his face as he sees Santana's hand, inside Mercedes' shirt, her cupped palm outlining the other girl's breast. In a movement too swift to follow, the next thing he knows, Santana's crouched over the still sleeping Mercedes with a switchblade in her hand. Jumping back, Puck hollers, "Watch it girl, you almost too off my nose. I was just on my way to the shower." Santana is certain that he was staring, but her policy is to cut first, ask questions later. She knows that he has to go and talk with Figgins that day, _so_…she reluctantly retracts the blade, bringing the index finger of her free hand to her lips. Still unable to resist the urge to check the tip of his nose, in a low whisper Puck says, "You will take your knife wielding ass over to the Glee Club, no way in hell you won't get yourself arrested for gutting some dick on the strip. I know you carry a blade at your back that is half as long as my arm. How the hell you function with that thing on you is beyond me. And _now_ I know you sleep with blades under your ladypillows too." He looks at her. "No way you're gonna last even a day before you try and kill somebody."

…week six…

Everyday when Puck comes home he goes through the same disarming routine he's done since he first bought the place. First he hangs up his jacket. Next he puts his gun away in the box in closet. His brass knuckles get placed on the side table with his cell phone. Any money from the day goes in the hidden caddy. He takes off his outer shirt and now he's just in his wife beater. Everyday for six weeks, Mercedes and Santana have watched him go through the same routine. The same routine, except nothing about today is routine.

Sunshine was dead and buried; the guy who did it was also dead, deciding to go down in a blaze of glory with the Lima PD. She was one of his first, and is now the first one he's lost. Throughout the hunt for her killer he'd been strong. Now, he's not so sure that he can be. The girls watch in silence as Puck sits on the bed for the first time since they'd moved in. No one says a word. The girls stand there looking at him, unsure of what to do. Mercedes is thinking, _This is Puck. We play Call of Duty together while Santana's at work. This is Puck. He lets me take over his kitchen to make cupcakes every Sunday, even though he thinks that little food is just for girls. This is Puck. He gave up his bed for me. This is Puck. Not once in all of the time that I've have spent with him has he touched me or looked at me in a way that made me feel sick. This is Puck. Sunshine is dead. His Sunshine is dead. This is Puck. He is my friend and his Sunshine is dead._ Mercedes walks over to the bed, quickly followed by Santana. She sits to Puck's left while Santana sits to his right. She takes his hand, the first time she's ever touched him, and gives it a little pat. He looks at her, still unsure if he can let down his guard. Mercedes takes a deep breath and pulls him towards her, into a hug. _This is Puck and he needs a friend. I'm his friend. _She is looking at Santana's wide, surprised eyes over Puck's shoulder as they both listen to his jagged sobs. That night also marks the first time Cedes had someone else's back while they slept.

The next morning, Puck is feeling surprisingly warm and undeniably happy pressed into the back of Santana. All at once everything comes back to him. Why he is on the bed in the first place between Mercedes and Santana and just as suddenly all of the warm feelings leave him. He gets up wordlessly and goes straight into the shower.

From that point on Puck sleeps on the bed, on the farthest side from the two girls.

…week ten…

Leaning over towards Mercedes, Santana says, "Girl he's hung like a horse, I mean I felt it, and he just walked away." Mercedes can feel heat rising to her face. Santana is shameless. The heat only intensifies as Santana continues with, "And that morning I thought he left and was 'air drying' after my shower." Mercedes lets out a little giggle. Shameless. "He looked hard enough to bore holes in my boobs, but all he said was good-morning and good-bye. And have you seen the way that he's been looking at your ass."

"No, just the way he's been looking at yours."

"Don't play, you know you woke up last week with that monster in his pants trying to reach out and touch you."

Giggling again, Mercedes hangs her head at the memory. "Yeah, I musta rolled over to his side of the bed by mistake."

Face all serious, Santana reaches for Mercedes' hand and asks, "And he hasn't messed with you for real when I'm not here has he?"

"No, we play video games and talk. I help him out with the girls some and their kids."

"And they treat you good too?"

Slowly nodding her head, Mercedes answer with, "Yeah, they want me to make'em some outfits, like the ones I make for you at the Club, well except they shouldn't come apart so easy."

That sets off a new round of giggles. "Yeah, those themed outfits you're making me have that hoe Holly Holliday scared that I'm gonna take away all of her clients. Laura Croft was by far the best cuz I get to keep all of my knives on as a part of the act. Of course I have to make sure not to cut anyone when those fuckers get all handsy…but…" She looks sheepishly at Mercedes.

"Santana, you better not lose that job. I barely make enough doing the odd job here or there to cover our food." The smiles fade away as Mercedes and Santana think about what she's just said. "Honestly, I think that if I didn't do all of the cooking and grocery shopping, Puck would just do it, and let me keep the money." She looks at Santana frowning. "I'm pretty sure he knows where I get it."

Just as confused, Santana says, "Even though I'm working over at the Glee Club, he hasn't asked me for a dime." Looking at the floor and not at Mercedes she says very quietly, "With what I make we could probably get a little place of our own." Slowly she looks back over at Mercedes. "Do you want to leave?" Mercedes shakes her head 'no'. "Me either, but all of this seems too good to be true, right?"

Mercedes shrugs and says, "I've been asking the other girls and I think it's real. And true to his word, he hasn't asked us for anything since we've been here, cept that we don't make a mess." Mercedes narrows her eyes at Santana, who is wearing her 'cat-who-caught-the-canary' face. "Girl, what did you do?"

"Nothing." But the cheddar cheese smile on her face tells Mercedes that she's full of it. " 'Cept maybe the other day I made a _huge_ fucking mess cuz I was running late. I mean crap was _everywhere_ when I left."

"Well, what did he do?" Mercedes is starting to get worried. She really didn't want to leave.

"He came down to the glee club and told me to get my ass home and clean that shit up."

They lean in towards each other, touching foreheads. As they link their hands, Mercedes asks, "Do you think he meant it, what he said?" Santana can only shrug. "I mean is this it? Are we home?"

…week twelve…

Everyday when Puck comes home he goes through the same disarming routine he's done since he first bought the place. First he hangs up his jacket. Next he puts his gun away in the box in closet. His brass knuckles get placed on the side table with his cell phone. Any money from the day goes in the hidden caddy. He takes off his outer shirt and now he's just in his wife beater. Everyday for twelve weeks, Mercedes and Santana have watched him go through the same routine. The same routine, except nothing about today is routine.

Mercedes slips off to the bathroom. Puck just watches as Santana pulls a small blade out of her hair, the one at her back, the one strapped to her thigh under her skirt, and so on and so forth. She places her set of brass knuckles on the table next to his. She takes a fairly decent roll of money out of her purse and puts it on the table. She never says that it's for him, but he knows it is. She doesn't bother going to the bathroom to change, taking off her little green dress in the center of the bedroom, tits bouncing. Standing there in just her panties, she never takes her eyes off of Puck as she ties her hair up into a messy bun. Fixed in his spot in the middle of the floor he watches as she goes over to the dresser and pulls out one of his t-shirts and pulls it over her head and jumps into bed. Now Santana is a stripper by trade, and he's seen her dance, but she never walks around naked if she thinks that he's home. She does it for the money, not the attention.

Mercedes emerges from the bathroom wearing a similar outfit, except she is wearing a tiny pair of shorts. She joins Santana in the bed and crawls under the covers. Usually they are as far from him as they can get, but tonight, Santana is in the very center of the bed, with Mercedes as always, tucked in close to her side.

Acting way more cool than he is really feeling, Noah Puckerman strips quickly and slides into bed on the other side of Santana. As she turns to him, he thinks, _Fina-fucking-lly._ Aloud he says quietly, "You sure you want to go down this road? Can't take it back." It is one thing to want to do this, but feel like it is never going to happen. It is entirely a whole other matter to finally be with them. He is letting them know after this he can't go back to just being their friend, no benefits. He hasn't even touched them, and he knows that once the clothes come off, for him there would be no going back.

Santana answers with, "We know." But it is Mercedes who convinces him that they know exactly what they are doing. She takes his hand and slides it around her waist, forcing him to slide in closer to Santana. Her head is resting cheek to cheek with Santana's.

She reiterates Santana's "We know."

"Well, you don't have to tell me twice." And with that Puck tells them to get nekkid. They quickly comply, and although Santana is shameless, both girls are still hiding under the covers. He tries to pull it down, but they hold firm. "Alright, guess I gotta work for this."

He gets out, and walks around to the foot of the bed. Then he lifts up the edge of the sheet, sliding under head first. Santana's eyes grow wide as she feels Puck's hand sliding up her leg. She hears Mercedes take in a quick breath of air, and she suspects that he's touching her too. As his hand slides farther and farther up her leg, Santana slides lower and lower down under the covers, trying to get his fingers inside of her faster. Mercedes too finds herself sliding down onto Puck's hand.

Santana bites her lip as she feels Puck curl one long strong finger in her. Out of habit, she seeks Mercedes' lips, whispering, "I love you." Although she can feel herself losing the battle, she whispers, "You okay." As Puck slides a second finger into each girl simultaneously, all Mercedes can do in response is nod her head yes.

With his head under the covers and only Santana in her view, it's easy for Mercedes to pretend that it could be Santana's fingers sliding in and out of her, that it is Santana's thumb rubbing and pressing, teasing her, making her tingle, making her come. Of course at this point, she doesn't need to pretend anything. All she needs to do is kiss Santana, suck on her bottom lip, pull her closer, and let herself get lost in the moment. This is all stuff that she's done before, and although Puck is the first guy to do it to her, he knows what he's doing with those magic fingers.

She even turns herself willingly over to the undercover sex shark as he presses his head between her legs, exploring everything he could reach with his tongue. Santana catches the look on her face as Puck's tongue brushes her in just the right spot. "I know, right? I figured he'd be good, but he's almost good enough to make _me_ happy with a dick over a chick." Mercedes is too busy riding out yet another orgasm to answer. She can hear Santana answer her own question though. "Not!" Shaking her head clear, Mercedes reaches out her hand, gripping Santana around her shoulder. Santana leans over, rolling on top of her, allowing Puck access to both of them. If she wasn't looking into Mercedes' eyes, she would have forgotten what she is about to say. But nothing Puck is able to do with his fingers or his tongue can cause her to ignore the look of panic that is starting to creep into Mercedes' eyes. Santana leans down and whispers, "Cedes, this is good. I'm right here. You don't have to do nothing that you don't want to do."

Up until this point Mercedes had forgotten that there is more to sex. It has been years and she's only ever done it with one person, and frankly that didn't count in her book. Sure, she's fooled around with Santana tons, but underneath it all San was soft, and gentle, and sweet. She treated Mercedes with love and respect. She was surprisingly giving and thoughtful. And a great teacher. She taught Mercedes that she was beautiful and hot and desirable, even if they both knew deep down that what they had wasn't permanent. Santana made her feel good and nothing they did ever reminded Mercedes of what she endured at the hands of her father. With him it was always about him. Nothing about it was intended to put her at ease, to make her feel good, to lessen the pain. There were no kisses, no soft touches, no sweet whispers, no loving cuddles, and no reassurances. All she ever remembered was pain.

Puck can tell that something is wrong.

For the first time his head surfaces from under the covers, and he is now lying alongside them. Santana gives him a look that he interprets to be almost apologetic. He slides his arm over Santana's back at her waist, and rubs his nose up the side of Mercedes' cheek before resting his head on her pillow. She looks at Santana, and although she knows that he means well, a tear slides out from the corner of her eye, hits his nose, and falls off of the end onto the pillow with a silent plop. He takes his mouth and kisses the next one that falls, keeping it on his lip rather than letting it hit the pillow. He whispers, "It's okay. I haven't done nothing to make you cry, and I never will."

Santana looks at him. He gives her a little smirk and says, "Cedes may get a pass, but yo ass is mine." She drops her head down to Mercedes' forehead. It starts slowly, but eventually his smile brings one to Santana's face, whose smile in turn brings one to Mercedes' face.

Mercedes knows that it's up to her, to continue or not. Santana has already made up her mind and is trying to persuade Mercedes as best she can. Mercedes can feel Santana's thumb moving back and forth over her nipple, her fingers spread once again around her breast. She can see Puck's arm running up and down Santana's back, from her neck, dragging a finger down her spine, over her butt and back up again. She can feel Puck getting hard again at her side. She may still fell a bit of the old terror, but she wants this more. Slowly, after one last long look into Santana's eyes, Mercedes turns her head, closes her eyes, and kisses Puck. It's different than kissing Santana. His lips are soft and tender, but unlike Santana who always pressed for more, Puck is patiently waiting. Opening her eyes to look at him, she whispers, "I know."

Puck works for the rest of the night to keep his promise, and although there are tears, they aren't caused by pain.

Only once has she ever woken up in their bed, afraid.

…**Protect This House**

Pretty Demon Blade and Clumsy Swan had been with Puck for six months before they finally met the infamous Matt Rutherford.

From the moment he walked in the door, Mercedes knew that Matt Rutherford couldn't be trusted. She also knew that Puck didn't see it because Matt was his blood brother. Santana, unfortunately trusted Puck not to let anyone really dangerous into their house, and she had her guard way down. Mercedes never had her guard down around men she didn't know. All through dinner she laughed at the right times when he regaled them with almost too good to be true stories of him and Puck from back in the day. She asked all of the right questions when he paused dramatically. She acted genuinely proud of him for making it out and getting his fancy pants Associate's Degree and matching job at Lima General Hospital. She played the perfect hostess and he the perfect guest. He never acted as if he were paying her more attention than Santana, in fact he was just the opposite, laying on his pathetic game so hard for Santana that at one point she gave him a pity peck on the cheek. He was never gonna get her, but Mercedes knew that was all just a big front. He came across as harmless, but she could see him for what he really was, a snake.

Matt knew the moment he walked into Puck's to finally meet the new girls that he didn't stand a chance in hell with the poor man's J LO. Now the black chick, he could have. The best part of being Puck's brother was the fringe benefits. Namely that he was a pimp and the brother got them hoes for free. The girls just assumed that he was cool because he was cool with Puck. He knew which ones he could get with and which ones to stay away from, so that Puck was none the wiser. And this girl, Mercedes, she was definitely one that he could get with. He could tell by the way she carried herself that she was weak, just his type. Matt Rutherford may not have the looks or the charm, but he knew people.

All he needed was time alone with her. In the end she would roll over for him and give him whatever he wanted, because in the end they all did.

…

"I don't know Puck, I don't like leaving Cedes here with some stranger on the couch. Especially if she doesn't know where we are." Santana looks worriedly from where Mercedes is sleeping on the bed towards the couch, containing the sleeping form of Matt Rutherford. Something about him didn't sit right with her.

"Santana, it's the once a month extra special breakfast special at the titty bar. We'll leave her a note." He tears a sheet of paper off of the notepad magnet on the front of the refrigerator. "Besides, she's not here with a stranger. It's Matt. And they're both still asleep. If we hurry, they won't even know we were gone until the smell of the food hits 'em."

Reluctantly, Santana allows herself to be pulled from the apartment.

As soon as Matt is sure that they are gone, he slowly creeps into the bedroom and slides into the bed behind Mercedes. Mercedes knows from the moment his fingers first brush up against her thigh that something is wrong. The voice rumbling in her ear as he turns her over onto her back only confirms it. "Morning Cedes. Guess Puck wanted us to have a little time to get to know each other better." She is trembling out of fear, and that only makes him more excited. Like a broken record, her mantra blares inside of her head: _Just play dead. The dead feel no pain. The dead can't be hurt. Then rise from the dead like a zombie and wash away the dirt. _

"I think you want to get to know me, like I'm sure you know Puck and probably Santana too." He can read that his words are true in the reflection in her eyes. He takes both of her wrists and holds them in one hand, while his other hand presses on one knee, in an attempt to force her legs open. He takes his knee and pins one of her legs to the bed with it and then takes his hand to push her other leg to the opposite side. Like a broken record, her mantra blares inside of her head: _Just play dead. The dead feel no pain. The dead can't be hurt. Then rise from the dead like a zombie and wash away the dirt. _

Now settled between her legs, he smiles and says, "Now that's much better. See how much I want you despite…everything." She frowns slightly at his words. He laughs, "Despite you being, well not my type. I usually go for the girls that are still pretty hot on the outside, but so undeniably messed up on the inside. Last night after seeing how much Puck is into you, I figured that I'd make an exception this time." One tear rolls down the side of Mercedes' face. Like a broken record, her mantra blares inside of her head: _Just play dead. The dead feel no pain. The dead can't be hurt. Then rise from the dead like a zombie and wash away the dirt. _

"I figure if Puck could find it in his heart to do you, I could too. We share _everything, _you know_._"

If Matt was really as smart as he claimed to be then he would know that his first mistake was getting into bed with Mercedes. His second was thinking that he had some kind of claim on her. And well his last mistake is moving the pillow out of the way. As soon as Mercedes' fingers brush against her knife, she hears Santana's voice. Like a bolt of lightening it voice rings in her ears, drowning out her usual mantra, and guides her hand straight and true. "PROTECT THIS HOUSE! And gut his ass like a fish!"

(*flashback within a flashback, inceptioned y'all— When Mercedes moved in with Santana's family, they only had one rule: Home is sacred and always safe. Everyone in the house had to carry the weight of the responsibility to protect it against anyone who came at them. It was just the 4 women in the house, and outside there was no way to control anything and the world was all sorts of fucked up, but at home it was stay safe or you had better die tryin. That was when Santana and her mama taught Mercedes all about knives.*)

And this was her house, with Puck and Santana, and nobody, not even Matt was going to come in and take that away. Matt never notices her change; he is too busy thinking about what he was going to do to notice what she is actually doing. Once the spit lands in his eyes he can't see and in the confusion he loosens his grip on her wrists. She takes her elbow and uses it give his nose a new shape, while her other hand grabs her knife out from under her pillow. Now on his knees clutching his nose, Matt starts shouting, "You stupid cow. You're not playing right. You're not supposed to fight." He is still working to clear his eyes and doesn't notice her little smile or her raised foot.

Mercedes kicks him squarely in the balls, knocking him flat on his back. She blankets him with her body as soon as he lands, quickly slicing him from ear to chin on the left side of his face and then on the right, you know, so that he would match. Ignoring his screams, she pins his wrists with her knees at his sides. He tries to throw her off, stopping when he feels the prick of her blade once more, this time at his throat. He can already tell that she's broken skin with its tip. "Move; I dare you." The look in her eyes tells him that he miscalculated, badly. She leans down and with a low gravelly voice says, "I may be fat, a little too black for some, maybe even ugly, and no doubt messed up inside, but this is _my_ house and _my_ bed and you're _not_ welcome in it, _ever_." She presses the knife in just a fraction, and his eyes grow even wider with rising panic. "I may not have much in this world, but I'll be damned if you are going to come in here and take away the only peace I do have. You walk away only because it would kill Puck if I killed you. But…" And as she presses in another fraction of an inch, she decides, "I think that maybe, just maybe he would get over it once I told him about you, the real you."

Mercedes knows that Matt is a dealer of secrets, everybody did. She's spent enough time with the girls to know exactly how he operates. They may still be scared of him and the damage he could do, but she didn't have any secrets from Puck. Mercedes also knows that Matt has a secret of his own. Secrets aren't the only thing she's heard that he deals. For the first time he is caught in his own web. He actually has to choke back a laugh once the realization hits him.

With very slow measured breaths, Matt says, "Just let me leave and I'll leave you alone. I—I promise, I won't mess with you again. In in in in fact I'll owe you one, a big one."

Matt is gone by the time Santana and Puck return.

Shrugging, Mercedes reaches for her extra special breakfast special, and she says, "I think he had to run to the hospital, for—for work." She has already put fresh sheets on the bed.

Puck buys her story. "His loss."

Like a demon, Santana can smell the blood in the air, and it makes her smile.

*flashback time is over*

* * *

><p><strong>Part Two: Hansel and Gretel<strong>

…**Following the Bread Crumbs**

Rachel Berry was a dead end. Even Rory knows that 'Fabrage' isn't going to turn up anything. In the car on the way back to the station Sue says, "Game time Notre Dame."

Rory gives Sue a wary look. "Let's play KNOW."

Rory repeats, "No?"

"K-N-O-W. As in what do we know, what do we want to know, and what do we need to know." Turning towards the rookie in the driver's seat, she says, "You first."

Hoping and praying to pass yet another of Sue's tests Rory starts with what he wants to know. "We want to know who shot Shelby and we want to know where the baby is."

"Alright, big picture, obvious questions. What else?"

Encouraged by the fact that Sue didn't slip in another insult, Rory continues. "To figure out the answers to the big questions, we need to know the baby's birth mother's real name. We need to know who Shelby was meeting in that alley."

"Alright, I'm with you so far. What do we already know that will help us answer at least one of those questions?" Rory's face screws up into a scowl. "Don't give yourself an aneurism kid. What do we know?"

"We know that someone lured Shelby into that alley with a text message, but we don't know who it was from."

"But what else do we know?"

"We know that they sent the number from a cell and we could have the numbers traced?"

"We could, but we know something else that may be more useful right now. I'm hungry, and unless you have something that is full of marshmallows and magically delicious, you need to take the next left."

Pulling up to the DoubleA-DoubleC, Rory understands what Sue is hinting at. They had evidence from the scene. The note had taken them to Rachel Berry first, but something else had been recovered that night too. "The takeout container! Our vic ate here sometime before she was shot."

"Bingo! Owner is a former cop, and he was a good one too. I trust him."

Upon entering the restaurant Sue quickly scans the place for prying ears. She sees a few customers, and an interracial couple having way too much fun at a corner table attracts her attention briefly with their loud laughter, so for the sake of privacy she asks Artie to talk with her in the back room. While in the back Sue asks Artie about the vic and the baby. "Who was she meeting with?"

"The baby-daddy, a cat named Noah Puckerman. I believe him when he said it was their first time meeting face-to-face. He seemed really happy."

"Look time of death puts the murder occurring almost as soon as they left. Do you know where he went after?"

"Yeah, when we took 'em to-go containers, he was apologizing for cutting everything short, but he had to meet with Figgins."

"The juvie counselor?"

Artie didn't want Sue to think that Puck was involved, but at this point, with her already sniffing around and asking questions, he knows that he'd better come clean. Sue would sort it all out in the end. "Yeah. Technically he's still considered a juvenile, but he's on his last chance. If he screws up again, he's in for hard time." Sue narrows her eyes at Artie. "Look Puck is guilty of nothing more than not catching a break and maybe an unfortunate occupation. He does what he needs to do, but he ain't a criminal, and he ain't a killer."

Sue trusts Artie, but ultimately the evidence will tell her the truth. "Anything else of note?"

"Nah."

"Then we'll have two dinner specials to go."

…

Back at the station, over amazing Tuesday night dinner specials, Sue and Rory plot their next move. "Sir?" Sue looks up at Rory, fork hanging in the air.

"Yeah kid."

"Given his record, Puck could have done this. What will we do if Mr. Figgins can alibi Puck?"

Putting down her fork, suddenly full, Sue says, "Don't know. He could still be involved somehow. Although I'm not really liking him for this. Artie is a pretty good judge of character and wouldn't vouch for just any lowlife on the street. Maybe this Puck let a friend of his borrow his gun? Assuming he has a gun."

"Why would he have a gun? Isn't that a violation of his sentence?"

Sue chuckles at the rookie's ignorance. "Sure is, but everybody's got a gun. That's what keeps life fair out there. Even if he didn't pull the trigger, it would still make him just as guilty. We'll just have to wait for Figgins to get back to us."

"Well, in the mean time I had the techs run Shelby's cell records." Rory pauses, unsure if he should continue. He ran the records on his own, and he's not sure yet if his initiative will be rewarded or punished by Sue.

"Great, I can check that off of my to-do list. Glad to see there's a real working brain behind those Irish eyes. Anything useful turn up?"

"Well we found our Quinn. Her number keeps popping up along with the untraceable cell number that sent the text message. Turns out her last name is Fabray-Evans, not Faberge."

"Address?" Rory passes the printout over to Sue. "Well, now we can go and talk to Mrs. Fabray-Evans about our victim. Judging from this address, she has money now, and maybe she wanted her baby to disappear for good. Before we do, let's have her cell records dumped too and see of our disposable cell shows up on both." It takes a few hours, but eventually Quinn's cell records confirm that she was also in contact with the mystery person with the untraceable number. Things were about to get interesting.

"Well Lucky Charms, it looks like we're movin' this investigation on up to the East Side."

"Huh?"

…**Getting Pushed into the Oven**

"Look, I don't care what you saw, Sugar says she gets her daddy's money if he were to turn up dead."

Lauren is about to strangle Matt, and the Beiste is about to shoot them both. "I did recon just like you told me, and he's remarried, with a new baby. That's why he gave Sugar the boot. In the time she's been on the streets, he's moved on with his life. Maybe she was too high to remember all of those details."

"Oh fuck you. You saw the money he gave her that he just happened to have lying around."

As she listens to them argue, the Beiste doesn't care about Sugar, the Motta family, the Enforcer, or Frankenstein. All she cares about is the money. "Kill them, kill them all, and bring Sugar to me for safe keeping." The arguing stops, and both Lauren and Matt turn to look the Beiste in the face. She knows that Lauren is no killer, and Matt is her connection to prescription drugs. If she sent him and it went to hell, it would take her forever too replace him. "You're both real lucky that you're more useful to me alive and whole." She dismisses them with a wave of her hand. "Fuck it, get me Finn."

On phone, she simply says, "Hudson, I have a job for you."

* * *

><p><strong>Part Three: Promises, Promises<strong>

…**Coffee & Conversation**

…noon…

Sam I Am picks her up in his car and 'Mercedes with the mystery blonde in the mercedes' becomes the talk of the strip. (People who are paid to notice things about people take note. Phone calls are made, and eventually it will blow up in Sam's face, but for now, he's going to enjoy his coffee and conversation with Mercedes!)

Everything is all kinds of awkward, and immediately Mercedes feels as though she's made a terrible mistake by wanting more. She'd let Santana pick out a nice but _niiiiice_ dress for her, and as she looks down at the top of her cleavage, that old familiar panic starts to tickle. She should be happy with what she has with Puck and Santana. It's not perfect, but they love her, and she loves them, even though they all know that it's not quite right. She's almost ready to bolt at the red light, when he starts whistling. Looking out of the window, only the people walking by on the street can see the smile on her face. With a confidence born of ignorance, the kind that with anyone else would get him hit over the head and janked, Sam pulls up in front of Artie's. He doesn't want sex (at least not at this point in the story, because he's still faithfully married!), he just wants to have coffee and a little conversation.

Once inside they are shown to a table in the corner by Tina. Mama C-Chang comes out to greet her Clumsy Swan and the cute man with the mouth like a giant carp. Mercedes laughs as Mama C-Chang pulls Sam into a hug too, muttering, "Ooooh, you are _very_ strong. Clumsy Swan is _very_ lucky." Sam's eyes grow wide with amusement at the woman's gesture. After all, he has no clue who or what 'clumsy swan' is at this point.

After holding the chair out for Mercedes to sit in and pushing her to the table, Sam takes his seat across from her. "So let me tell you a little bit about myself first. I am essentially a writer and I'm trying to do some research for a new book. I—I was ho—hoping that you could help me with the research part." As he talks he pulls out a notepad and a small tape recorder.

"You write books about prosti—"

"_No_, no, no. I, um…write fantasy/sci-fi books. The new one is just coming from a different place. I want this one to be real, about real people, but still with the element of fantasy." She sits there looking at him puzzled. "I was hoping that you could be the heroine."

"M—me? Why me?"

"Why not you? You don't fancy yourself an unlikely hero?" Looking down at the table, Mercedes hides her eyes behind her long thick lashes. "Well, I do." She looks up at him. "I'm not really from around here, and although my family was in and out of motels and homeless shelters for a few years when I was finishing up high school, it was nothing like what I see you walking through everyday out there on that strip. Plus, I'm not a woman and I need a woman's insight and perspective to make everything work."

All of that is well and good, but Mercedes thinks, or more precisely, needs to know that there's more to it. Leaning forward, she says, "You…still need to answer the question."

"I suppose I should be completely honest right?" He takes his hand and uses it to brush his bangs out of his eyes. The look on his face could almost be described as shame, and again Mercedes starts to fear his honest answer. She has absolutely no reason to be afraid. "The first time I saw you wasn't on the strip, it was at BSHU." Seeing her face cloud with worry, he continues talking quickly. "I was there to visit a friend for spring break, one of the few people from high school I still see, and anyway, we were coming out of the coffee shop and you were on your way in with two other girls."

_Santana and Esmeralda._

"Anyway, I actually held the door open for you, but you never saw me because you and one of the other girls were laughing about _something_. The younger girl told me 'thank you' and that clearly her sisters had forgotten their manners. I remember thinking that you had a beautiful laugh."

As he talks, Mercedes stares at his mouth, almost unable to believe what he is saying. They'd _almost_ met once before? At Esi's college over spring break? She is entranced as his lips curl into a smile as he tells her, "You had me smiling, for no reason other than your laugh is contagious." She can feel her brows rise just a little as she watches his tongue slide out of his mouth, licking his bottom lip before he continues speaking. "Well imagine my surprise a few weeks ago when I got lost, ended up cruising the strip, and saw you again. Except this time you weren't smiling. I almost thought you were a different girl, but…but I got a very good look at you the first time. Very. Good. Look." She watches as the left corner of his mouth crinkles up, pulling his lips into a lopsided grin. Quickly, he straightens in his seat. "I guess you could say that I was intrigued." Her eyes drift up from his mouth to his eyes, now focused on her. "I promise that I'm not a crazy stalker."

She is saying, "That's good to know." But thinking, _That wouldn't be so bad._

"Anyway, if you're willing to share your story with me, I'd love to use it in the book somehow."

Her face falls. _Research sounds so much like work. I should be grateful, and yet…_"Sure. It's not all that exciting, but if you…you think it'll help."

His reaction to her agreeing to help is sudden, a little crazy, and exactly what she needs to see. He holds up a finger, and stands up. "Victory dance time." She watches as he proceeds to do an outrageous James Brown slide, as he sings, "Wo! I feel good, I knew that I wouldn't of…" He lifts a foot, stomping it back down, sliding in the reverse direction. "I feel good, I knew that I wouldn't of…" Now at this point Mercedes is starting to think that maybe crazy stalker is bad, and then he does the body roll. Cue her ladyparts tingling. "So good, so good, I got you." He ends his little impromptu celebration with a Michael Jacksonesqe spin, finger point, and hip thrust. She hides her smile behind her hand, looking around to see if everyone else can see what she's seeing. Things like this did not happen in public, right? She hears scattered clapping from Artie and Tina, watching from behind the counter, and a few other customers.

After a taking a mock bow, and sounding like Elvis as he says, "Thank you, thank you very much." Sam takes his seat across from Mercedes. After taking one look at her he ask uncertainly, "Too much, too soon?" She shakes her head vigorously 'no', her curls swishing. The tops of his ears start to turn red. "Sorry, I never expected you to actually say yes. My agent told me that this was a _terrible_ idea, and that I would probably end up getting, _at best_, mugged." He chuckles a bit at the though of her trying to rob him. "Uhh, yeah, I used to…umm play football." He begins to gesture with a sweep of his wide hands from his chest to the spot where he was just dancing. "That—that was my end zone victory dance."

"Nice moves." _That body roll should be banned in public._ "And the singing?"

Holding up his hand, eyes pleading, he asks, "Don't laugh, okay?"

"Why would I laugh?"

"I was also in my school's show choir." The only choirs Mercedes is familiar with are the ones she sings in, in church on Sundays. "Glee club." Still not ringing any bells. "We were a club that focused on singing competitions against other schools."

"Oh, well I love to sing, but _never_ in front of people, except at church. I think that's brave, not silly."

Wondering why he was even nervous in the first place, Sam goes on to explain. "Anyway there was a girl, powerhouse packed into a tiny package barely 5 feet tall. She was an upperclassman who, well I don't know why she dropped out, all I know is that about a year later she was dead. Shot by some "john" and dumped in an ally not too far from here. Her name was…Sunshine."

At the same time Mercedes also says the girl's name.

"You knew her." Sam looks into her eyes briefly, then away. "I guess that makes sense, giv—given your.." He clears his throat. "…current line of work, right?"

Looking away uncomfortably, all Mercedes can say is, "Something like that."

"Don't sound so sad, you're going to be the unlikely hero, remember. I'm not here to judge, just to learn." His face is open; his eyes are smiling just as hard as his mouth. She wants to believe those smiling green eyes.

"I believe you. But you should know that I don't—t." As she talks, Artie brings them over drinks, while Tina delivers an overly large smile and food. Sam's surprised to be given food.

"Weird, we didn't even get menus when we sat down and I know that we never ordered."

Placing her unfolded napkin on her lap, Mercedes says, "On Tuesdays I always get the lunch special, just trust me, it's always delicious."

Sam trusts her. And his research is forgotten after the first bite.

…Two o'clock…

"So, I feel like you were trying to tell me something earlier, before the food came out?"

She nods her head slowly and says, "I'm not really a hooker."

"You're not?"

"No. I've tried and failed _epically_ for over two years to turn one measly trick. I've gotten sick, woken up in the hospital, almost beaten up. I'm just no good at it. I can get my mind to go to another place, but that place is always scarier that what I'm going through."

"Wh—where do you go that's scarier than something that made you wake up in the hospital?"

"Home. Not where I am now, but where I grew up."

He's already guessed, and opens his mouth to say that she doesn't need to continue, but her story spills out before he gets the chance. All he can do is remind himself to breathe as he listens to her.

"So, you're looking for a story huh? I've got a story…"

If you ask her why she feels so compelled to share it all with him, she wouldn't be able to tell you. Literally they just met, and here she is giving him her sad life, blow by bloody blow. She doesn't leave anything out. Maybe, somewhere, deep down inside she thinks that once he sees what she really is and where she really comes from that he'll get scared off. She isn't sure yet what is going on, but she knows it's the start of something. She thought it was something she wanted, but as she thinks back over it all, she can see the balance is tipped against her. There are far too many tears and too few smiles and laughs. Why does she think that this man with the shining green eyes needs to know all of her messy business? Despite having no answers, she tells him everything. Took her weeks to start talking to Puck and after only two hours with Sam she's singing like a canary.

Looking at everything else but him she starts. "...At first everything was good. When I was a lot younger, I was too young to see what was wrong. Until I was 8 I thought we were just like every other family. My dad was a dentist and my mom stayed at home. My older brother Malcolm was still around. Eventually I realized that there were too many nights when my dad had too much to drink, and there was too much arguing. It seemed like all of a sudden one day they stopped hiding everything from me. Everything got worse when my brother went away to college, I think…I think my dad knew that my brother wouldn't keep i—it a secret. I was twelve. My mother never knew what was happening. She thought that I was having "trouble adjusting" after my brother left home. All those nights I'd wake up screaming, the days on end that I would spend anywhere else but home, the attitude, the acting out; she never thought... She spent so much energy trying to avoid my dad that she ended up avoiding me too." She pauses, looking down at her folded hands. "And no, I didn't tell anyone, not even my best friend Santana. No one would have believed me anyway. My father was _Dr_. Jones. He wasn't screwing his daughter, screwing over his family in the process. We looked perfect on the outside, but inside everything was all messed up. My dad loved sports, one thing we had in common. But he liked betting on sports more. The week of my 16th birthday we find out that we were flat broke. The week of my 16th birthday Santana comes to my house for the first time, ever, and in about five seconds she knows. She tried to kill my mom with her bare hands. The week of my 16th birthday my mom saw for the first time. She stood there, hiding, and watching." She closes her eyes, as she says the next words. "The week of my 16th birthday, m—my mom, she killed him, mm—my dad, in his sleep, with a bat. He was so drunk that he never even woke up. Then she came to me, c-co—covered in blood, saying how sorry she was. I thought that I had dreamt it all up, until I found her the next morning, hanging. My brother had just been shipped out and somehow, someway I ended up with Santana and her family. Those two years were hard, but really good. But, just like always, it didn't last. San's mom wasn't exactly stable, and she just lost it one day. She doesn't even know who we are anymore. Broke San and Esi's hearts. Still, somehow San got Esi into BSHU early, and we've been with Puck ever since. They are my best friends. We all found each other at the right time, I guess. I don't know where I'd be if it weren't for Santana, or where we'd be without Puck. It might not make sense, but it works." Clearing her throat, still looking down, she says, "Way to bring down the mood, right?" She hears a loud sniffling that causes her to lift her eyes, looking at him for the first time since she's started talking.

Mercedes is stunned to see Sam sitting across from her with tears streaming down his face. _He's crying over me? _

Wiping his face, he says, "Wow…just, wow. You must think that I'm stupid for doing this. Every time I think that I have problems." He pauses, shaking his head, eyes clouding once again as he reflects on her story. "God…I… I'm so sorry. No one deserves even a fraction of what you've had to endure." He reaches out, but is unsure if she is okay with him touching her. After hearing her story, he's amazed that she got into his car at all. He pulls hand back and tries to pour everything he is feeling for her into his eyes. She sees it all, and it melts her heart.

"Thanks." She watches as he turns off the tape recorder and folds the cover over on his notebook. "Not really what you were looking for?" She blows a loud breath out, making her lips into an 'O' as she does. She's told her story in its entirety before and never shed a tear. Now seeing him packing up to leave makes her want to weep. "I understand."

Again, his hand moves towards hers when the dejected tone in her voice hits his ears. Still unsure, he pulls back. "Honestly I wasn't sure what you were going to tell me. I…never expected…I just can't help but feel bad for making you tell me."

"You didn't make me tell you."

Shaking his head to the contrary, he says, "Still, it can't be easy. And I feel awful for thinking that I could even begin to take your story and use it in my book. I just wanted to know how you could look so happy one day and so broken a few months later." She watches as he buries his face behind his two large hands. "I'm an idiot. I thought maybe…maybe I could relate, be—because of some of the stuff that I've been through, but…" She watches with wide eyes as he mutters, "Stupid, stupid, stupid…" over and over again.

"Hey, calm down. I'm still here, and I'm okay. _And _I don't think that you're stupid at all." She sees one green eye peer at her through a slit between his fingers. "You seem to be doing pretty well for yourself and you went to college."

He mutters, "Jr."

"Still college, and you wrote like, two novels that were big sellers while you were there. I mean, you were given an _actual _opportunity and you made the most of it." He slowly lowers his hands away from his face.

"Maybe this is your opportunity?"

She shrugs. "Maybe, but I'm just surprised that you think I can help you."

"You will, you already have. I mean, we'll need more meetings of course, be-because I have t—to really get to know you. For…for the book."

"For the book." She mirrors the shy smile he has on his face. She watches with awe as a blush slowly creeps its way up from under the collar of his shirt, turning his face bright red. "Why are you doing this? I mean were you and Sunshine together?"

Very firmly he says, "No." He can tell by the look on her face that she finds that hard to believe, which makes him scrunch up his face, almost ready to laugh again. Almost unconsciously he shakes his head no. "I wasn't with anyone in college; nobody was interested in essentially a nobody." He points one long thumb towards his chest. "She was my glee mentor." Mercedes can see that there's more to it, and she asks for more with one tilt of her head to the side and a rise of her left eyebrow. "You could say that the book is for her and every other girl out there who never got a chance."

Very softly she asks, "Is there _another_ girl?"

For the first time she can see him close her out, pain obvious in his eyes. After a few uncomfortable moments, he says, "You're really perceptive, you know that?" She quirks an eyebrow at him and nods yes. "Neytiri, the other girl is named Neytiri."

"That's a pretty name. Did you go to school with her too?"

"N—no. My wife, uh, miscarried a few months ago. So, _and no one else knows this_, but I'm dedicating the book to the baby. We never found out if it was a girl or boy, but in my heart, I think she was a girl."

Mercedes' initial reaction is,_ Wife, of course. _Followed almost instantly by,_ How heartbreaking. _Aloud she says, "That must have been really hard on you, both of you."

"Yeah." Sam thinks about how much heartache a person he's never met, but loved with all of his heart, has managed to cause him. "I've only been married for a few months and we practically got pregnant on our honeymoon." He stops, hearing what he just said. "Sorry, TMI right? I—I don't have many friends, and you're so easy to talk to, and …Just sorry." He immediately starts to fiddle with the things on the table, avoiding her thoughtful gaze.

_Friends. _A guy saying 'we are pregnant' and talking about honeymoons was something that Mercedes saw on TV, not something she could really relate to or really understand, but being a friend? "It's okay." _We're friends._ "Neytiri is a beautiful name, sounds I dunno, Egyptian?" Sam chokes a little on the sip of water he's just taken. Mercedes doesn't think she is being funny. "What?"

"It's from Avatar." Mercedes gives him a lost look. "Huge movie by James Cameron, about humans invading an alien planet for profit. Neytiri was like an alien princess, a blue ten—tentacled alien princess." Again, she looks dubious. Looking up at nothing in particular on the ceiling, he says in a rush, "A lot of chicks call it the blue Pocahontas movie." He only looks down when he hears her snicker.

Holding one hand up in apology, with mirth clearly dancing in her eyes, but it is mirrored in his own, she says, "Wow, you're wife must really love you to let you name your daughter after a blue _tentacled_ alien princess. I mean…given it's origins, _Leia_ would be pushing it if you ask me."

"_Leia_…older brother, right?" She nods yes. Grinning, he says, "I told you, no one knows but you. And she would never let me name a goldfish after a character in Avatar, much less our child."

Mercedes giggles, and he starts to slowly laugh along too. Then he stops abruptly, asking, "Is this wrong, to laugh, to be laughing? About…I—I haven't in…months."

"I don't think so. Does it feel wrong?" _Does this feel wrong?_

"No, it doesn't." _For the first time, in a long time, it doesn't._

…Four o'clock…

As she sat there laughing at yet another of his impressions, Sam can't help but think, _'Large Hardon Collider'_. Somehow he and Mercedes had been set on this collision course just like the particles in the collider. As her laughter floats around him in the air, he feels all of the pain that had been squeezing his heart to death, finally loosen its hold. Every decision he's ever made has led him to this meeting, at this moment, in this time. Just like two particles set to collide, he and Mercedes were always meant to meet, crash, and create something wonderfully new together. He wants to tell himself that it will be his book, but deep down he knows the truth. Everything has changed for him. He is sitting there busting out some of his best impressions, and she is sitting across from him loving every second of it. No one has ever done that before. She isn't looked around embarrassed, checking to see if others share in her embarrassment. She asks him questions because she is genuinely interested, and she actually listened to the answers. She is starting to pepper her conversation with stuff that she'd just learned from him. _This can't be happening. This shouldn't be happening. I'm married to the woman I love, right? Why do I feel like I made a huge mistake? _Sam is sitting there listening to her try to relate to his nerd side with a little obsession of her own. He is only half listening because he is thinking back, undoing all of those decisions that led him there. He's trying to go back undo it all, so that he never allowed himself to be talked out of not saying hi that day at BSHU. Everything is so wrong right now, and at the same time he feels as if everything is finally right. As she laughs yet again, he can feel it stirring more than his own smile in return. As he fights the battle to remain calm, keep everything friendly, and not think naughty thoughts about his new found friend, he wonders if there will ever be a way to make it all truly right.

Mercedes doesn't understand half of the things that Sam is saying, but she has no problem listening, asking questions, and trying to get it. He is so different from everyone else she knows, and yet she feels like he already has a place in her life. She knew that there were missing things, things that she dared to believe that she should have but didn't, but sea green eyes wasn't one of them. Did he fill a hole that she didn't know was there? It's not too great of a leap to make when she really thinks about it. There are so many things that she doesn't have, her whole life feels like one big endless pit sometimes. She is struggling to understand the feeling she has as she watches him talk, as she watches him wave his hands through the air gesturing about this and that, as she watches his eyes perfectly express what he is feeling, as his face and mouth move and change to communicate to her. But what is he saying? Literally, at that moment, he's doing an impression of Darth Vader, but what is he trying to tell her? This is different, good, but different. She knows what love feels like, she loves Santana and Puck, and this feeling that she has about Sam I Am is not the same. As far as she can tell, it's not love, it is something even stronger.

…Six o'clock…

Mama C-Chang brings out dinner specials. In Cantonese she says (You've been here all day already, might as well stay for dinner. You two are so cute together. I should just push your heads together so you can just kiss already!) All she says in English is: Eat. Again, Sam and his now dinner companion, descend into giggles. Mama C-Chang walks away with a huge smile on her face.

"Ummm, service here is…_different_." His low voice rumbles over his laughter.

After releasing a hearty chuckle herself, Mercedes says, "And you know that there's no way in hell that she just said 'eat'. No way."

He leans forward, brining his shining green eyes closer. "Right, I know! I could say 'eat' in 5 different languages in the time it took her to say _whatever_ it was she just said."

Eyes wide with wonder, Mercedes stammers, "You—you can speak _five_ languages." Again, she almost has to look away as he looks her full-on in the eyes. The blush again glides its way across his face.

Very quietly, he says, "Well five _unofficial_ languages, anyway."

"What's an _unofficial _language?"

"Kinda…made…up." He looks at her, expecting to see her laughing at him, but instead he sees curiosity. She has no clue what he's talking about and she really wants to know what he means. She reaches out and lightly touches the back of his hand with her index finger. She pulls it away so quickly he thinks that he imagined the contact, but there is no way to ignore the chill that runs up his arm. Encouraged, he continues. "You know, like when you were a kid and you spoke pig-Latin?" She nods her head slowly yes. "Well a lot of the books, movies, shows and stuff that inspire my writing have languages all their own."

"That _real_ people actually speak, even though they are all fake?"

"Yeah, like Klingon from Star Trek, At—Atlantean, the Elvish language from Lord of the Rings, Dothraki from Game of Thrones, and, of course, Na'vi from Avatar."

"Of course." She smiles this completely adorable shy smile when she realizes that she's flirting. Now this is a rather critical juncture in the life of Mercedes Jones and she momentarily gets lost in her own thoughts. She's not a whore. If she was, she'd never feel the least bit of shame about finding herself flirting with her friend, another woman's husband. She glances at him quickly, realizing that he was waiting for her to 'return' to the conversation. Clearing her throat, she asks, "Atlantean? As in the underwater…kingdom of?"

He quickly nods his head. Now she looks like she is about to laugh, but for some reason he wants to laugh with her. Sheepishly he adds, "And no, I never managed to learn anything remotely useful like Spanish."

Mercedes says quickly, "Your eyes look like an ocean I'd love to swim in." in Spanish, knowing that he didn't understand. It is his turn to give her an inquisitive look. She just shrugs and says, "Santana's mama wouldn't let us speak English in the house. If I didn't learn it, I'd never know what was going on." Thoroughly impressed, he never thinks to ask her what she said.

…eight o'clock…

Tina brings out the infamous DoubleA-DoubleC diner booby dessert. One look at the plate brings the blush to the tops of Sam's ears. As Mercedes explains the signature dessert, a round mound of mini devil's food cake topped with a dollop of whip cream and a cherry and smaller mound of chocolate swirl ice cream, topped again with a quarter sized dollop of whipped cream and a cherry, she watches his eyes unconsciously drift down to her breasts.

This heralds the return of the full-on blush when he realizes that he's staring. "Sorry." He works to clear throat and runs his hand over his thighs, discreetly adjusting his pants. He looks embarrassed. They both stare at the boobylicious dessert, spoons in hand, afraid to dive in.

"It's okay, my dress is _not_ helping. I'm sorry. It's just that I—I didn't know what you wanted to see me about and I certainly didn't know that you were married." Thinking, _The first time I dress to actually attract, and it works, and he's married...my life. _

Forcefully Sam repeats, "Married." _How could I forget that? _He clears his throat. "That's right, I'm married. And we are friends."

Mercedes reiterates, "Just friends."

"Friends can share _interesting_ desserts?"

Nodding her head in agreement, she answers with, "Sure they can."

The rest of the meal is shared in a quiet, reflective, but companionable silence. (But they did fight over the last bite of cake, with Sam eventually surrendering to the inevitable. Let's hear it for southern charm.)

Little and big boobies consumed, a still grinning Sam wipes his mouth with his napkin. "Thank you so much for talking with me. This has been incredible." He gives Mercedes a blinding smile, earning him one beautifully gorgeous one in return. He thinks, _If she keeps smiling at me like that then we'll be here all night. It's not like this place ever closes. I should go home, right? Yes, of course I should. So…so should she._ "Here is my card; cell number is on the back. I have more than enough material to get started."

As he passes her his card, her fingers once again brush against his palm, sending little chills up his arm. Pulling his hand back, he watches as she programs his number into her cell phone. Running his fingers through his hair again, he says slowly, "So…you take your time, and when you're ready to talk again, give me a call." Smiling Mercedes rises to leave, with Sam rising with her. She has to remember to keep the surprise off of her face. It had happened every time she got up to use the bathroom too, and she still isn't used to it. "Just let me settle the bill and then I can give you a ride."

"No, I'll walk, but thanks for the offer, and thanks for, the ya'know…_coffee_."

"My pleasure." The look on his face makes Mercedes feel as if her face is covered in a blush.

"Goodbye, Sam, Sam I Am."

"Goodbye Mercedes." He closes his eyes as he blocks out the bustling interior of the diner to focus on her laughter as she exits and it also prevents him from watching her backside as she walks out. He shouldn't be staring at her like that anyway.

Even though she thought that maybe it was a bit rude, Mercedes can't seem to keep herself from chuckling every time she watches Sam's blush turn every bit of his exposed flesh bright red. She also can't help but wonder if all of the parts she couldn't see were also red. That thought just makes her laugh even harder.

Sam is pulled out of his quiet revelry by a sharp, heavily accented voice. Mama C-Chang is back. "Did you like the food?"

"Yes ma'am, it was delicious."

"Good. Did you like the company?"

"Yes ma'am, I enjoyed it mor'en I should have."

Her eyes start to twinkle. "Very good. You come back again?"

With a curt nod of his head, he says, "Yes ma'am I plan on frequenting your fine establishment again in the near future."

"That is most excellent." Without another word the diminutive Asian woman turns to head back into the kitchen shouting, "Tina! Take his money!"

…**Hope and Spun Sugar**

As soon as the door closes Mercedes' laughter is cut short. She can hear loud voices, arguing voices, around the corner, and they are voices of people she knows all too well. She thinks, _Can't I get five minutes to myself just to be happy?_ She is shaking her head as the two women emerge from around the corner, bringing their argument in front of the diner.

"You're throwing your life away! Just come with me." Emma has her long bony fingers wrapped around Sugar's arm and she is attempting to pull her into her little Gremlin, in yet another attempt to 'save' the girl.

"Will you let…me…go!" With every pause, Sugar pulls back with a lot more force than Emma imagined the girl possessed. "I'm not going to your cult house. I will NEVER go to your _cult_ house. I'd rather die out here than have you kill me with your kindness and stupid pamphlets." Finally free, Sugar turns to run, and ends up facing Mercedes.

Emma sees Mercedes as a friend and one she could use to help convince Sugar to finally go with her. "Mercedes, tell Sugar that she's hopeless. Make her come with me to get help."

Hopeless. That is the exact word that Mercedes would have used to describe her life not too long ago. Did she now have a little hope?Even now she can't stop her eyes from wandering briefly to look at Sam I Am still standing inside the diner, talking with Mama C-Chang. _I guess I that's what I'm feeling, hope._

Sugar is now screaming at Emma to stay back or Cedes will cut her. Watching the exchange Mercedes remembers her promise to Sugar about never trying to turn another trick if there is hope…That little warm spot that has been growing all day in the pit of her stomach, making her heart ache, must be hope. Even though he's married that little spark of hope just won't go out.

"Emma, I've got her."

Once Emma realizes that Mercedes was taking Sugar home with her instead of forcing the girl to go with her, she changes her tactics. "Mercedes, you too! You are better than this life. Come with me to the halfway house. Let me take care of you. I feel so sorry for you. Let me help."

_Why you crazy little holier-than-thou ginger! _Emma says the same things to her all the time, but tonight Mercedes isn't gonna take it. Tonight she stops, and turns back around to face Emma, with a little attitude of her own. "Emma, I see you every damn Sunday in church. Pray for me all you want but keep your pity to yourself. I have friends and we take care of each other."

Pointing at Sugar, Emma asks, "You call that taking care of someone?"

Mercedes shakes her head at the idealistic evangelical. "Sugar is a grown woman. She makes her own choices and right or wrong. We all do."

Condescension shining in her tone, Emma answers with, "Well everything is wrong from where I'm standing."

Mercedes gives the red head a half smile. "Emma, you're right."

"I know I am."

"It's all about perspective, and right now from where I'm standing, my life isn't looking so bad." And after looking one last time at Sam I Am through the diner window, Mercedes grabs Sugar and takes her home with her.

…**Blood Brothers**

_Knock, knock…_

"Matt?"

"Are you gonna invite me in?" Puck just backs away from the door. Matt enters the apartment.

"Man, you have to understand that I'm real sorry about before. Everything just came out all twisted, I never meant no disrespect."

Before he can inhale his next breath, to continue the groveling process, Puck has him backed up against the closed door, his elbow pushed into his throat. "You know what; I think you're full of shit. Explain to me how just a few weeks ago you're talkin' to me about blackmailing Quinn with Beth and now all of a sudden Shelby is dead and my baby is missing?" He pushes harder, slamming Matt's head into the door, shouting, "Explain that!"

Matt tries to speak, but can't. Puck eases up enough for him to talk, the fierce expression never lessening in his eyes. "I don't know nothing about that. Honest. C'mon Puck, you know me. I don't use violence to get the job done, do I?" Puck's eyes are searching Matt's for the truth.

"I don't know if I believe you, but I know for damn sure that I don't believe in coincidences. You look me in the eye and tell me that the only reason you told me wasn't to get paid."

"No man, like I said before, it just came out wrong. I told you because I know that you would have done right by that baby. I just wanted to mess with Quinn cuz I hated what she did to you. Everything got all turned around." Puck removes his elbow from Matt's neck, but still stands toe-to-toe with him. "Man I hate her as much as you do. You're not the only one who wants to see that bitch get what she deserves, aiight? And I swear to you that I don't know nothing about what happened to your baby. _Nothing_." Puck still looks like he's not sure if he believes him, but he steps back, putting a few feet of space between them. Matt breathes a huge sigh of relief. That bit of space gave him more room to spin his lies. "C'mon man, I'm your brother. I didn't have to tell you about Beth at all. Quinn offered me a lot of money to keep that secret." Matt looks at Puck, tilting his head to the side. "You're worth more to me than that hoe, any day of the week, and it was your baby too? That makes me an uncle…" He hits his chest with his palm to drive home his point. "Man, seriously, you gonna question my loyalty after all this time?"

Puck finally relaxes his shoulders, shaking his head no. Matt walks over to him, throwing an arm around him conspiratorially. "You know, she could have done you even worse."

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

...

For the price of one massive secret about Quinn, Matt gets back into Puck's good graces, with the two of them eventually ending up playing Call of Duty just like old times, with Puck taking the game way too serious as usual. He hasn't won a game against Mercedes since she and Tana moved in, so as he starts to dominate the game, he shouts "I am the Puckasaurus hear me RAWR!"…to which Matt answers, "Bitch, you ain't shit, don't forget I know that Satan and Mercy got yo' dick in a jar!"

Puck stops playing, tossing his controller aside, just as he launches himself in the air towards Matt, shouting, "Elbow drop!"

The two guys have settled down and are watching Pulp Fiction while throwing back beers by the time Mercedes comes in feeling all lit up from her meeting with Sam, and not even Matt and high as a kite Sugar can bring her down. It's a full house as Santana walks in moments later. Puck tells Matt, "Bro, you're welcome to stay, but you get the couch."

Santana snickers and adds, "And no peeking either. No matter how hard you look, you'll never get three girls in bed with you at once. You have a hard enough time getting one." Matt gives her the finger and that only makes her smile harder.

Coming to Matt's defense, Sugar says, "That's not true, I fuck Matt all the time." Puck, gives Matt a surprised look, while Santana looks like she just threw up a little in her mouth. Only Mercedes looks at Matt, unsurprised.

Mercedes whispers, "Girl, I thought I told you to stay away from Matt."

Sugar brushes off her comment, and then offers to share the couch with Matt. Matt tries to play it off as the ramblings of a crack-whore. Trying to take the heat off of himself he asks, "So Mercy, why don't you tell us all about your little lunch date, that ran, umm, _long_."

Mercedes slowly scans the room. Sugar looks way too excited. Puck is wiggling his eyebrows at her. She smacks him across the arm, saying, "Wasn't a date, but he is my new _friend_. And it was nice." She is trying to ignore Santana who is measuring out different 'lengths' with her hands, with questioning eyes.

Puck gives her a peck on the cheek, saying, "You know I'm just playin', and you deserve nice."

"Satan! Quit it." Santana laughs, and grabs Sugar, pulling her into the bedroom with her. No way is she sleeping on the couch with Matt. There are certain sounds that Santana never wants to hear, ever.

Mood souring even more as Sugar is ushered into the bedroom, Matt says flatly, "Call him whatever you want. I know it don't take normal people nine hours to eat lunch."

Cutting her eyes at Matt, hand already on her hip she states emphatically, "We were in the diner the entire time, and that's what he is, besides, he's married." Matt shrugs as if that didn't really matter. It matters to Mercedes. "I'm just helping him with a book he's working on."

Puck asks, "So blondie writes?"

"Yeah, and get this, he says that he knew Sunshine; they sang in "show choir" together when she was still in school."

Puck stands and faces Mercedes when he hears Sunshine's name. "Seriously?" Mercedes nods yes.

"He's dedicating his next book to her and…and someone named Nytiri. Anyway, small world right?"

Matt answers before Puck can. "Hella-small."

…'**Til…do us part**

"Yeah, I'm sending you a pic now. Just remember, I'm only doing this because I owe you for fucking up and telling Puck about Beth. This is the last time I help you out with a problem. I don't care how much money you have now. I ain't your lapdog. Use some of your husband's money and hire a PI like the rest of them desperate housewives do. I got another cash cow now."

After hanging up on Matt and tossing her phone onto the table, Quinn, clenches her fists hard enough to leave marks from her nails inside her palms. _He's out on the strip picking up fat black hookers and yet he won't sleep with me? Just wait until he gets home. Looks like that pre-nup may come in handy after all. Infidelity clause, my ass._

…

Sam's foot is barely across the threshold of his house, when Quinn starts pelting him with his clothes, screaming "A HOOKER SAM! YOU'D RATHER DO A DIRTY HOOKER THAN ME? !"

Ducking a brown loafer, he rushes her, grabbing her hands, so that she can't grab any more clothes to chuck. "What are you doing? What are you talking about? I'm not sleeping with hookers." He answers honestly. Mercedes isn't a hooker.

She rips her arms from his hands. She grabs her cell and pulls up the photo of him and Mercedes in his car. Turning towards him, she snaps, "Oh yeah? Than explain this!"

All color drains from his face. "H—how did you get this? Are you having me followed?"

"Who cares how I got it. All that matters is that it confirms that you have been cheating on me."

He shakes his head. "No. That's not what this shows. Yeah, I picked up someone today, but it was for lunch. She's not a hooker, she's a friend who is helping me with the next book. That's just where I happened to pick her up before going straight to the diner."

"You think I'm dumb enough to believe that?" Quinn is moving back over towards the pile of his clothes.

"You're not dumb, but I am telling the truth and I expect you to believe me. We have to be able to trust each other if this is going to work." He starts to rifle through his bag.

"My thoughts exactly, maybe this isn't going to work. Good thing we have a pre-nup right?" Her hateful glare begins to falter as he starts pulling out his notebook and mini-tape recorder.

"I was gathering information, research for the new book that you keep pushing me to write." He offers the items up for her inspection. "I—I don't feel entirely comfortable sharing her story with you, it's pretty bad, but you're my wife." Without looking, deep down and right on top, Quinn knows he's telling her the truth, but it's already too late. She's not stupid, but she is stubborn. She stands there defiantly, shaking her head no, refusing to look. "Are you divorcing me over a lunch?"

"No, not yet, but I just realized I don't know you."

"Where are you going?"

Without looking at him, she says, "Retail Therapy."

He backs up; attempting to block her exit with is body. "Quinn, don't run away, we need to talk about this."

"No, no we don't. There's nothing to talk about." She looks again at her cell phone.

"Nothing to talk about? How about having me followed?"

"I'm not having you followed; I just want to know when you travel to certain parts of our fair city. I have friends in low places." Smirking she adds, "And apparently so do you." Her smirk deepens. "You want to lie about what you've been doing, that's fine. I don't have to stay here and listen." He blocks the door. "Sam move. You can't make me stay here against my will." He moves from the doorway, but he still reaches out to grab her arm as she tries to walk past. "Get your hands off of me; I don't know where they've been."

He looks hurt, like her words actually cut him. "How can you say something like that to me? I've been nothing but faithful."

Finally having something to smile about, she says, "Okay, just because you haven't actually fucked her yet doesn't mean that you've been faithful."

He watches her walk away, and to the back of her retreating head he asks, "Why do you always have fight so ugly?"

Now standing at the upstairs window, he watches her drive away. He's not really angry, he's got nothing to hide, but he is confused. Seeing another car, one he's never seen before, pull into Quinn's vacant spot in the driveway, he wonders, _Now who is can this be? _

* * *

><p><strong>End Notes:<strong>

Long update is long. I doubt that there will be another one this long tho.

Two prizes are offered within this massive update. Who got the tiny show!ref? (I am not referring to Big Bang Theory/Large Hardon Collider or The Jeffersons, those were obvious :). And who can tell me Esmeralda's fictitious school (a Mariposafria guilty pleasure tiny song!ref)? Bonus points and sweet, sweet future mini-chapter snippets are at stake!

Yes, you can point with your lips. The Mister is Filipino, and he and his mama do it all the time!

Sam was whistling the Harry Potter Theme Song. In my headcanon, that is his favorite song to whistle. And yes, Cedes, Santana, Puck, and Esi have seen all of the movies, and Mercedes has read all of the books. But ginger was a word that she learned from Sam during the 4 o'clock block of conversation when they talked about Harry Potter.

A little love cocoon- that was a term used in a pm to me, perfect description! Thanks Jadziwine :) & I'm so glad that you're back.

And emzjuk thought that the titty-bar needed an equally titillating dessert!

Must use words: Large Hardon Collider (for emzjuk), I am the Puckasaurus hear me RAWR!"… "Bitch, you ain't shit, don't forget I know that Satan and Mercy got yo' dick in a jar! (for bubblezzify), and pimptastic (for thegoodwitch).

All others are obviously still in the queue! Thanks again for the suggestions.

Up in two weeks or less, **CH 4: Cloudy with a chance of Speedballs**. Finn starts planning his hit on the Motta's, Sam learns some incredibly heartbreaking news, and a little rainbow named Brittany enters the story.

Thanks for reading! I hope that you enjoyed it. & Don't forget to send me some more must-use words or phrases (:


	5. CH 4: Cloudy With a Chance of Speedballs

**Disclaimer: I own nothing…'tis a shame, but 'tis true**

**CH 4: Cloudy With A Chance of Speedballs **

**Dear Readers: Thanks for taking the time to read (and review) that monster update AKA CH 3! It was a beast, but sometimes, I just can't stop. This one is pretty short :) Your reviews are wonderful and they make me smile (which I've totally needed considering the funk I've been in of late). Sorry this took me so long to post (see previously mentioned: 'funk'). Remember, the warnings are in Ch ½. **

* * *

><p><strong>Introduction: This chapter is all about taking first steps. First steps down a slippery slope, first steps towards the end of a sacred union, and the first steps into a new, better life. <strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Part One: Arachnids<strong>

…**Black Widow**

Sam is opening the door for the two strangers before the baby-faced guy can knock. Under her breath, Sue mutters, "Huh, Lady Lips from the diner, go figure."

Sam frowns, leaning in close to better catch what she said. "Did you just say something?"

"Nope, nothing at all." Looking at Rory, she clears her throat.

Rory steps forward into the awkward silence, and says, "Mr. Evans? Sam Evans?" Sam nods his head slowly. "We're Detectives Sylvester" he jerks his thumb at Sue, "and Flanagan, and we'd like to ask you a few questions if you don't mind."

Sam frowns even harder, barely understanding what Detective Flanagan is saying. He thinks that this is some kind of joke, so he steps back slowly, closing the door as he does. Rory quickly puts his wrist in the narrowing space, waving his badge like a flag in Sam's face. Sam opens the door again. "Cops?" Sue nods 'yes'. "C'mon in then. Kinda late for a police visit don't you think?"

"We are always on the job. Crime sleeps for no one." Sam gives Sue a quick once over. Once inside, she looks past Sam. "Is your wife at home?"

"No. She left a few minutes before you got here. Why do you want to talk to her?"

"Do you know a woman named Shelby Cochran?"

Sam half-laughs at the question. "The show choir director? Yeah. I mean I haven't heard her name since my team competed against her in college." Halting his walk down memory lane, Sam sends a bewildered look Sue's way. "What is this about exactly?"

Giving him a look of boredom and disgust rolled into one, Sue responds with, "That what we're here to figure out. We're homicide detectives."

"Oh my God, Quinn?"

Sue does a slow blink. "It's a good thing you're pretty." Shaking her head, she continues with, "Would we be here asking to speak with your wife if we were investigating her death?"

Realizing his mistake, Sam says slowly, "No. I guess not. It was just my…my first reaction. Sorry." He looks at his feet, ears red with embarrassment. Clearing his throat as he raises his eyes again, he asks, "Shelby?"

"Yes. She was shot and killed yesterday."

Taking a step back, hands up, Sam says, "Wow, that's…wow." Stumbling for his words, Sam finally settles on, "That's sad to hear, but I don't really see how I can be of any help."

Sue takes in one deep breath, counting to five before letting it back out even bothering to hide the annoyance from her expression, she says, "Well, _Sam_, that's why we're the detectives. All you have to do is answer a few questions and look at a photo. Think you can do that? Or is that hair color natural?"

Quickly clearing his throat, Rory quips, "Sir! Manners."

Sue gives Sam a creepy grin of apology. "Sorry, that was rude even for me. It's been a long 48." Schooling her expression, she asks again, "Do you think you can answer our questions?"

Sam looks at the pleading expression on Rory's face and the tired one on Sue's face. Shrugging, he figures, why not? "Sounds easy enough."

Rory flips his notepad to a fresh sheet and looks to Sue to start the questioning. "How long have you been married?"

"I—I thought you were going to ask me about Shelby?" Sam is about to ask another question, when he looks at Sue's face again and decides against it. He's going to try and stick to _answering_ questions from this point on. "Sorry, uh, um about 6 months."

"How long did you know her before then?"

"Maybe 3 months, we met in college. She transferred in right at the end."

Rory gives him a sheet of paper with a list of phone numbers on it. "Do you recognize any of these numbers?"

"Well, this one is mine. That one is a friend of Quinn's from high school. I think his name is Matt something." Shaking his head, Sam says, "Actually, I don't think he's her friend, but they keep in touch." Sue looks excited for the first time all day. She points to the third number highlighted on the list. The one belonging to the mystery caller who'd set Shelby up in the alley. Sam looks at the number and then up at Sue. "That one is _Punk's_, no, correction, Puck's. Another friend from high school."

Taking the list back, Sue asks, "You're sure that this number belongs to someone named Puck? Is that a nickname or something?"

"Yeah, his last name is Puckerman. First name…I'm not so sure about. Something from the bible I think." Sam gives them a little shrug. "That's all I can tell you. I hope it helps." It does. The baby-daddy is the owner of the cell phone that sent Shelby the fateful text which lured her to the alley.

He starts to walk towards the door, until he realizes that no one is following. (Actually Rory started to follow, but he quickly backtracked once he realized that Sue wasn't leaving). "We still have a few more questions."

Sam slowly turns back around. "Like what?"

"For starters, do you and your wife have any kids?"

"No, we've only been married for 6 months Detective." Sam gives them a weird look.

"Well then, are you looking to adopt?"

"No, I mean we talked about it after…" Sam looks away, thinking about dark and painful things.

"After what Mr. Evans?"

Taking a slow breath in, Sam says, "After…after we, _Quinn_, had a miscarriage a few months ago." After running his fingers through his hair, Sam rubs his eyes, suddenly growing tired of Detective Sylvester's game. Turning his flashing green eyes on them, he asks, "What does this have to do with anything?"

Sounding as if she actually felt a little bit of pity for him, Sue steps forward slowly, with Rory at her heels. "Just humor me and answer the question. Have you seen the baby in this picture?" Rory hands him the small wallet sized photo.

Sam looks at the photo almost too quickly at first. As he takes a second, more serious look, all of the breath leaves his lungs. The eyes staring back at him were ones that he looked into everyday. Eyes filling with tears, Sam says quietly, "No. I've never seen this baby before." He slowly hands the photo back to Rory. "Who is it?"

"The victim, Shelby Cochran's adopted daughter."

Sam looks at them with cloudy eyes. "She looks young."

Sue nods and watches Sam closely. "About 9 months old." She can see his hands start to shake. "Mr. Evans, you're sure that you weren't looking to adopt?"

He shakes his head a little too hard and a little too fast. "No…" He chuckles wryly as he says, "Quinn kept saying that she just wasn't really ready to have children."

Rory looks at Sam above the edge of his notebook, pen paused in the air. "Then how does she know Shelby Cochran?"

"She doesn't, _didn't_…whatever."

Sue clicks her tongue three times before saying, "I find that hard to believe." Sam looks at her, and again shrugs. She can tell that he's thinking about something else, and that they had better wrap this up soon. "Can you explain why your wife's number shows up multiple times in the victim's caller ID? And vice-versa? I mean, was she looking to get into the show choir business?"

As if in a daze, Sam asks, "What? No, Quinn hates that kind of stuff. I mean she was in glee club in high school, but she just did that to beef up her college applications."

Pressing one last time, Sue asks, "Can you think of some _other_ connection?"

"I—I don't know. Umm, look, I'm sorry, and I really wish that I could be of more help, but…Quinn will be back eventually." Sam turns slowly and walks upstairs.

Sue and Rory watch Sam retreat up the stairs, the former calling out, "I understand. No need to show us out, we're done here. Thank you for your time." Sam doesn't even offer them a backward glance in response.

…**Web of Lies**

The ride back to the station is passed in silence. Once there, Rory adds Sam's photo to those already on the large wall, giving it a spot next to Quinn. Sue draws a line from Sam to Quinn. Standing back and letting out a large sigh, Sue quickly begins to review the connections they can already see.

Quinn is already connected to Shelby by the phone records. Shelby is already connected to Rachel, Beth, and Puck. Puck is only connected to Shelby and Beth. Sue now draws a line from Quinn to Puck based on the cell records and the information from Artie. Watching her, Rory breaks the silence by asking, "So where does this leave us?"

"I'm not sure." Walking along the wall, pointing at pictures as she talks, Sue says, "Lady lips was telling the truth about not recognizing the baby, but he sure saw something." She moves the photo of Beth and places it in between Quinn and Puck. Even Rory can see the similarities. "So, Quinn _is_ Beth's birthmother and Shelby is the adoptive mother." Sue adds a line between Quinn and Beth.

"That jives with what Rachel said and she also said that Quinn wanted to keep it all quiet."

Taking another step, her finger taps another picture on the wall. "Puck is the biological father, most likely cut out of the picture early on."

"According Artie, he just found out about Beth and only met Shelby the one time." Sue turns to face Rory, who hastily adds, "But his number is the one that Sam Evans identified as the cell that sent Shelby that last text message. The one that lured her into the alley."

Nodding, Sue moves to stand in front of the newest face on the wall, Sam, and she says, "Judging by the look on his face when we flashed that picture, blondie really had no idea that his brand new wife already had a baby with someone else." Cocking her head to one side, one arm across her waist, supporting the elbow of the other, she says, "And Rachel Berry and her mom connected only _after_ Shelby adopted Beth, and by all accounts they were on good terms."

Standing by Rory, she lets out another weary sigh. He looks over the wall and says, "The web isn't complete is it?"

"No." Taking a blank sheet and after drawing a large question mark on it, she writes the name Matt. Sue tacks his photo to the wall off to the side, connecting it to both Quinn and Puck based on their conversation with Sam. "There are still too many holes. Too many hidden connections." Looking at Rory, she says, "I'm not even sure if our shooter is on the wall yet." Sitting in the empty seat next to Rory, she lays her head down on the desk. "What we need is an eye witness that is willing to talk. Or else by the time we track down all of these connections, Beth could be gone for good. Assuming she's still alive."

"What if we don't get another eye witness?"

"We do exactly what we have been doing."

"Follow the evidence."

"And where are all signs pointing, Rookie?"

Rory looks at the wall. It didn't matter where he started, all of the paths led to one picture. "Noah Puckerman."

"That's right; we'll have Hudson bring him in tomorrow." Not even bothering to fight a massive yawn, she says wearily, "I'm beat. I just realized that I haven't insulted you in the last 2 hours."

Rory gives her a small grin. " 'Night sir. See ya' tomorrow." He can already hear her lightly snoring, face down on the desk.

* * *

><p><strong>Part Two: Bare Necessities<strong>

…_oOo…A tiny flashback to fill in a little hole…oOo…_

…"_Hudson, I have a job for you."…_

Hanging up the phone, Finn looks over at his partner Mike. It was time to test the waters. "Let's go run down the strip." Like roaches exposed to the light, as the police cruiser rolls down the strip, the girls, the johns, the dealers, and just about everybody else scatter. After a few minutes, finding just who he is looking for, Finn points to a small side street as an indication for Mike to turn. "Park here. This won't take long." Mike looks puzzled as Finn gets out of the cruiser saying, "C'mon rookie."

_Oh shit. _Puck sees Officer Hudson walking towards him with his Barney Fife face on.

"Alright Puckerman, up against the wall."

Puck shakes his head in disbelief, but complies. "Today of all days you decide to actually do your job?" Mike shoots Finn a look as he crouches to check Puck for hidden items, working his way up from ankles to wrists, patting all along the way.

Finn laughs, and pushes his hand into the back of Puck's neck harder, grinding his nose into the brick. "Gun." Finn can feel the bolt of fear shoot through Puck as Mike removes his piece. Finn turns Puck around before looking at the pistol in Mike's hand. "Should I book him?" Finn shakes his head no. "But isn't possession of a gun, most likely unregistered, a violation of his parole or whatever?" Mike gives Puck a look that he can't quite decipher. Sadly Mike says, "And here I thought you were a decent guy." Puck just hangs his head, and holds his hand out for the cuffs.

In one movement Finn pushes Puck's hands back down to his sides and takes the gun from Mike. "Rookie, is Puckerman currently in possession of a gun?"

Puck's brows rise as he looks at the rookie, curious as to how he's going to respond. Mike takes a slow measured breath, looking from Puck to Finn. "At this very second? _Technically_ no."

Smiling Finn says, "Then he's not in violation of anything is he?" Mike tries to keep the astonishment off of his face. Looking Finn in the eyes he slowly shakes his head no. "Then I guess that means he's free to go, right?"

"Uhh, ye—yeah, I guess so." Mike looks at Puck, who is pretending not to listen. "I guess you're free to g—go."

"Seriously?" Three minutes ago Puck thought that Finn was trying to do right by the Rookie, and actually do his job. Two minutes ago Puck thought that he was going to jail for real. One minute ago Puck realized that Finn was still Finn and that this had nothing to do with him, but everything to do with the rookie. Now he's about to walk away. He can always get another gun.

"Before I change my mind." Puck gives Finn the finger, but he turns quickly and hightails it out of the alley. Deciding that he is going to count himself as lucky, Puck calls it an early night. Besides, it was kinda lonely doing bed check with Mercedes _still_ out on her lunch date.

Back in the cruiser, Finn waits to see what Mike has to say. After a moment of silence, Mike says, "I suppose it's nice to have a spare piece, right?"

Finn gives him a long searching look. "Right."

Casually, Mike asks, "Donut? My treat?"

Smiling, Finn answers with, "Rookie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful partnership."

* * *

><p><strong>Part Three: A Life Changing Event<strong>

…**She Rides Unicorns**

Mercedes watches with wonder as Santana goes through her nightly ritual of counting her money. They always counted the money at the titty-bar. The place was never completely empty, and more importantly, most of the people there were friends. And half of them were friends with guns. "Santana, are you even listening to me?"

Santana lays down another pile of bills onto the table. "Yeah. I'm multi-talented. I can listen, chew gum, and never lose count."

"Then what was I saying?"

With her fingers still rapidly flipping through bill after bill, sorting them into piles of $100, Santana says, "You need a job. Like a real honest to God legit j-o-b." Her fingers stop for just a moment as she looks Mercedes in the eyes and says, "How in the hell did that crack-head manage to get you to do what I've been pushing you to do since day one?"

Rolling her eyes, Mercedes says, "Sugar is not a crack head. I'm pretty sure she gets her drugs from a doctor. I've seen her stash, all prescriptions."

"Correction, a crack head with health insurance." Shaking her head, Santana's fingers start flipping through her next glitter covered stack. "Whatever, answer the damn question."

"I told you. I promised her that if I had hope then I would stop trying to work on the streets. Not like that was really working out for me anyways." Moving the uncounted money around with her finger, she continues with, "I just said it to get her to leave me alone about being the one who was going to make it. I didn't actually think it would happen."

Slapping down another counted stack, Santana licks her thumb, flicking it a Mercedes before moving to a new batch of bills. "Why didn't you think it would happen? You deserve to be happy Mercedes. We all do. You know just as well as I do that we can't live like this forever. If any of us are gonna make it, it's gonna be you." Smirking, she adds, "Besides, I don't have pretty boys writing fancy books about me and you do."

Mercedes can feel the heat rushing to her face. "Santana, he's just my friend and I'm pretty sure that I'm not getting paid for helping him."

"Why the hell not? It's your story. You should get somethin'."

Mercedes just shrugs and looks away. Her eyes fall on a new face in an apron. "Huh…well maybe I don't want Sam's money. Money isn't everything."

Stopping again, Santana reaches out and pats the top of Mercedes' hand. "I know, but you can't get what you really want, and money would help. That's all I meant."

"What I—I re—really want?"

Counting the next batch of money, Santana answers with, "Girl. Quit lying to yourself right now. You may call him a _friend_ but that's only because you are too good to admit that you want more. That and you're too nice to take somebody else's man."

"I never—sa"

Both girls look up as someone quietly clears their throat. "Are you…are you ready to order." Mercedes can't help but smile at the tall waitress. "I'm Brittany and I'll be your server for the evening." Seeing the look on Mercedes' face, she adds, "I'm new hear and I am trying _really_ hard to impress Mama C-Chang. I don't wanna get fired on my first day." She looks at Santana, who has let the money fall from her hands.

Santana frowns and whispers, "Dammit." A little louder she says, "Just bring us two dinner specials."

Brittany's smile does bring a blush to Santana's cheeks. She watches as Brittany's skirt swishes from side to side as she walks away.

"Okay, what was that all about?"

Santana turns her attention back to Mercedes. "What? I lost count, that's all."

"Ummmhhhhmm, that's all."

Picking up her dropped bills, Santana says, "Oh, shut up. It happens…sometimes…almost…never. Whatever, we're talking about you not me."

Mercedes allows the smile tugging at the side of her face to reach her eyes, causing her friend's fingers to stop again. "I'd rather talk about you."

"One problem at a time."

Leaning in, Mercedes whispers, "Why is this a problem?"

"Is there a problem? Did I mess something up already?" Again, Mercedes and Santana are startled to see Brittany standing at the edge of the table with two plates of food in her hands.

Santana mutters under her breath, "Damn ninja."

"No, ummm, everything's great. So you're new to Lima?"

As she places their food down, Brittany nods yes. "I just moved here from Akron to be closer to Dr. Carl."

A little too loudly, Santana asks, "And who is Dr. Carl, your boyfriend?"

"No, he's my vet. I have a cat with some very serious vices." Holding her hand up to whisper to the girls, lest another patron accidentally over hear her, Brittany says, "He smokes, likes to hit the catnip hard, and I think he binge eats while I'm at work because he misses me so much." Looking into Brittany's eyes, Santana can see that she is absolutely serious. "Dr. Carl is one of the best vet-pet psychologists in the state."

"Wow, you must really care about your cat."

Brittany laughs. Her laugh washes over Santana like a warm wave. "Lord Tubbington is all I have to care about."

Mercedes sits looking back and forth between the two girls as they chat about Brittany's cat, and she realizes that for the first time she is the third wheel. As she begins to eat her food, she wonders if it's okay to listen in on the conversation. Unbidden, her mind thinks back to her lunch with Sam the day before. It would have felt strange if a third person had been there with them too. Never before when it was her, Puck, and Santana did she feel left out. Instead of making her feel sad, it only makes her smile harder. She looks at her friend in this unguarded moment, counting on her fingers the 6th throaty laugh emitted. Brittany has squatted down, with her head and elbows on the end of the table in order to bring her face closer to Santana's. Mercedes can see the blush deepen on Santana's face, and the goosebumps spread across her arms as Brittany says something about her official DoubleA-DoubleC diner name. Mercedes watches as Brittany unconsciously runs her fingers along the top of Santana's arm tracing a shape, as she explains. "I don't really understand it. Tina says she calls me 'loopy rainbow' like an eight that fell over on its side." Smiling, she says, "I guess it's because I can get kinda turned around and confused, but I don't let it stop me. I just keep on smiling, and I keep going and going and going." Mercedes watches her giggle before saying, "Like the energizer bunny. I like bunnies."

"So do I." Mercedes has seen it all. Santana admitting to liking bunnies? _Bunnies?_

"Loopy Rainbow!" Brittany stands up quickly and turns towards the kitchen. "I do not pay you to flirt with your girlfriend. I pay you to look pretty and serve food. Order up!"

With a little, "Sorry" Brittany bounces off.

"Awww shit." Mercedes wisely hides her smile as Santana realizes that she swept all of her neat money piles to the side when Brittany brought over the food. She's going to have to start all over again.

This is a good thing. To Mercedes, it certainly looks as if Santana has a little hope too.

…**She Rides Coattails**

The eleven o'clock news…

"Hello, I am Jesse St. James, bringing you exclusive new details surrounding yet another senseless murder on the streets of Lima. As we reported earlier, Homicide Detective Sue Sylvester spoke this afternoon at a police conference about the shooting of one of Limas biggest stars, Broadway songstress Shelby Cochran. Now with me, standing on the very spot where Shelby took her last breath is her daughter, Rachel Berry. Ms. Berry, do you have anything that you want to say to our viewers?"

Kurt's hand trembles in mid air; one shiny nail hovering above the power button on the remote as he watches Rachel's crocodile tears run down her face sparkling in the lights like little diamonds. "Tha—thank you so much for this opportunity Mr. St. James. As you know, I am Shelby Cochran's only living blood relative and although we were estranged, we had recently reconnected."

"You said that you and your mother were planning on working together to help you launch your Broadway dream?" Nodding yes, Rachel let's two more tears slide down her face.

Quickly dabbing them with a tissue, she says into the camera, "But now both of our dreams have been dashed. And my…my adopted sister is missing. If there is anyone out there with any information regarding who committed these heinous acts, I beg of you to please come forward." Falling to her knees, Rachel continues to plead into the camera, "Please."

…A wee bit later that night at the StarBar…

Rachel slips into her club just as April Rhodes is finishing up her extremely rousing rendition of Madonna's 'Like A Prayer'. Clearing his throat, Dave says, "You're awfully late tonight Tink."

Taking an uncustomary seat on a stool near the end of the bar, she says, "I had some business to take care of."

"Oh, we saw your _business _all over the news. We even had a brief moment of silence for you."

Smiling fondly at him, Rachel coos, "Awww, that's so sweet. I wish I could have been here to see it. Maybe we'll stage another one and invite that news anchor Jesse and his crew to film it." Dave just nods yes, not surprised in the least bit at Rachel's nonchalant attitude.

A tipsy customer slides onto the barstool next to Rachel, almost knocking the smaller girl off. "Sorry sweetie!"

Righting herself, a giggling Rachel says, "It's okay April."

"That's cuz you're my girl, right?" Rachel gives April a thumbs up while nodding her head vigorously. Winking at Dave, she calls out, "Hiya, you big teddy bear. Gimme the usual."

As Dave prepares April's tequila shot, Rachel taps her hand on the top of the bar, shouting, "Make it two, and tonight, it's on the house."

Quickly swiping up her first shot, April hollers, "Alrighty! I'll drink to that." She tosses her head back, downing the shot. Rachel grabs her shot off of the counter, clinks it with April's already empty one, and prepares to do the same.

Before she can toss it back, Kurt takes it from her hands. "Rachel! What on earth are you doing? We don't spend hours each night performing a rigorous exfoliation and moisturizing routine only to drink it all away into wrinkly leathery skin, now do we?"

Weighting out Kurt's words, Rachel slowly says, "I—I suppose you're right."

Not wanting to see her night of free drinking taken away, April quickly counters with, "Oh Kurt, stop being such a drama queen all the damn time. Live a little why don't you? Her mom's dead."

"So is mine, but you don't see me drowning my sorrows in alcohol."

April gives him a little shrug, unphased by his admission as she throws back her second shot. Distracted already, she slides off the stool heading for the stage, shouting, "This is my jam!"

Gasping, Kurt tries to take use his free hand to take Rachel's second shot. She pulls it out of his reach. "Kurt, please, that's enough of that. I'm taking this shot."

Kurt looks sourly over at April Rhodes as she starts to get too friendly with some of the too young for her male patrons. Sneering, he asks, "Why do you even bother keeping her around? She's a lush who always reeks of the bottle."

Cheekily, Rachel replies, "Well, she is my best customer."

Turning his disapproving eyes on her, Kurt says, "Seriously Rachel. Why?"

Spinning her stool around with her foot, Rachel looks at April. "She reminds me of where I want to be and where I never want to be all at the same time."

"What?"

Turning once again to face Kurt, she gives him a sad smile. "Have you ever seen her office?"

"Office? I didn't even know she had a job, much less an office."

Throwing back a second shot, Rachel clears her throat saying, "Well she does and it's lined in gold and platinum records from the early eighties." Kurt's mouth falls open. Rotating the empty shot glass in her hand, she continues with, "I may have a million hits on YouTube for singing other people's music, but I don't have any record label chasing me, no contract, and no records lining my walls." After placing the empty glass down on the bar, she looks at Kurt. "You may think that she's just a drunk who lives in the loft above her husband's strip club, but there's more to her than meets the eye."

Trying to recover from his shock, Kurt stammers out, "W—why tonight?" as he points to Rachel's third shot waiting for her on the bar.

"Early celebration I suppose." Rachel drinks down the shot. "Even with Shelby dead, I still feel like my life is about to change." She slides off of the stool and throws her hands in the air, waving them in time to the music.

Kurt watches in stunned disbelief as she joins April on the stage. As they start to sing, Kurt begins to slowly swirl Rachel's first shot, still in his fingers, around. "Well there's more to me than meets the eye …" He throws back the shot, wincing against the burn of the alcohol as it slides down his throat, "and I want my life to change too."

* * *

><p><strong>End Notes (random and ramble-ly): <strong>

Poor Sam. It will be a few before he really wakes up and smells the d-i-v-o-r-c-e. There are still more secrets to uncover first.

Whodunit? Have you figured it out yet? It's okay if you haven't. Clues have been left, far and wide, but it will all come together eventually. They don't call Sue 'Hawkeye' for nothing. She always gets her target….Avengers!ref.

Yes, Finn is that bad. Someone has to be!

Hi Brittany :)

April and Will, sitting in a tree… It's better than Wemma, that's for damn sure.

And Kurt is so very ambitious and up to no good.

No must-use words it this update, but there are a few in the next chapter :) Keep them coming!

Next up, **Ch 5: People Living in Dollhouses Shouldn't**… Everybody is fighting. Quinn is fighting with Sam, Quinn is fighting with Puck, Mike is fighting the allure of the dark side, and Mercedes is fighting her feelings for Sam.

And no, I am a shady troll, so I am not even going to say when Ch 5 will be up. But I've already typed a few thousand words, so it is at least in progress!

Thanks for reading and I hope that you liked it.


	6. CH 5:People Living in Dollhouses

**Disclaimer: I own nothing…'tis a shame, but 'tis true**

**CH 5: People Living in Dollhouses Shouldn't…**

**Dear Readers: Thank you for all of the story support! Your questions and theories really give me food for thought, and help me with the unraveling of the mystery. One point of clarification: It has only been ****three**** days since Shelby was shot. This is the morning of day four****. The flashback where Finn acquires Puck's gun occurred just ****after the fight between the Beiste, the Enforcer, and Matt in Ch 3****. But Ch 3 was already getting so long, it got bumped. Remember, the warnings are in Ch ½. **

* * *

><p><strong>Introduction: This chapter is about the first rays of light starting to shine in dark places. We get some light shed on this most mysterious of investigations. The light of the cold hard truth is finally being inserted into a certain sham of a marriage. And our dear Mercedes makes a decision to take a chance on that little spark of hope.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Part One: Things Don't Always Add Up<strong>

…**Sneaking Suspicions**

_Another day in the snake pit, _Mike thinks as he opens his locker to get dressed for the day. Blue pants already on, he pulls off his shirt, and stands there in his t-shirt staring at his reflection in the little mirror. He reaches for his bullet proof vest and debates for a moment about wearing it. As a general rule, rookies always wore their vests. For the most part all uniformed officers were supposed to, but a lot of the more seasoned officers only wore them for specific patrols and planned busts or raids. Mike chooses to put his vest on.

Next he pulls on his navy uniform top, shaking his head as he works his fingers on the buttons. He leaves the top two undone. He reaches for his shiny new badge and affixes it to the front over the right pocket. _I never thought I'd be in dress blues again. From top of the class to bottom of the heap._ In truth, Mike graduated from the academy over 5 years ago at the top of his class. In fact, he's the same age as Finn, but his thin frame, clean shaven face, and easy smile help make him look a lot younger. He remembers taking his detective's exam earning the highest grade in the department. He thinks, _But not this department._ He hasn't been home in a while, not since his superiors realized that he had an uncanny knack for becoming invisible. They called him 'the ninja' behind his back, and yes, smiling when he thinks about it, he had to admit that he liked the moniker. For some reason no one paid any attention to him. Uniform or not, he was never seen as a threat. And when people don't see you, they let their guard down.

*…Flashback Times are a GO!...*

In a surplus never used back office, behind a closed door and drawn blinds, Mike is busy, quickly reviewing the files on the Abrams car accident and the suicide of Sergeant Howard Bamboo. The door quickly opens and closes behind him. "Detective Chang, thank you for coming in to help us weed out a bad apple."

Over the edge of the Bamboo file Mike looks at the Lima Police Chief, Dustin Goolsby. "No problem, our two agencies benefit from a collaborative partnership. Anything we can do to help." He extends his hand for a brief handshake which the Chief gives him.

Coming to rest on the edge of the table rather than the chair opposite him, the Chief continues with, "You look young enough to pass for a rookie and I heard about the work you did in Oakland, so I know you can make it believable. Just be careful." Chief Goolsby, takes his finger and slides the pictures of the Abrams accident and the Bamboo self-inflicted gunshot wound front and center on the table next to him. "Officer Hudson may not be the sharpest tack, but he's smart enough to get away with murder."

Tapping one of the photos with his hand, Mike offers, "By making it look like a suicide?"

"Right. Don't let his doughface fool you."

Pointing to the other picture, he says, "And I guess this means that you don't really think this was an accident, do you?"

Chief Goolsbly shakes his head. "But there was never any way to prove it." Shrugging, he says, "Cops know what to do to make the questions go away, and the last place you wanna look for a killer is behind a shield. For now let's just say that we have our suspicions."

"So that's why I got called in?"

"Not exactly. We're pretty sure that Bamboo was dirty and now someone has taken his place." Mike gives him a look. "Okay, so we are more than just pretty sure. We know Bamboo was dirty and taking money for favors. It just took us too long to piece it all together without tipping our hand."

Solemnly Mike says, "I know how hard it is to make a conviction against one of your own stick. In a way I'm glad to be away from home. Nobody likes a cop who snitches on other cops. Doesn't matter what _they_ did, you call them on it and _you_ break the code." Closing the files on the desk, he finishes with, "Stupid code."

The Chief nods his head. "Well like I said, it took us a while to see Bamboo's corruption. We thought that with his death it had ended, but now we see that somebody new is helping the Beiste. It's gotta be Hudson, Bamboo's old partner." Mike's eyebrows go up.

"You think Finn killed off his first partner after he went dirty so that he could keep the money to himself?"

"Something like that. We need proof and that's where you come in. We need someone he doesn't suspect to document misconduct and to catch him in the act. Someone who knows all about him and won't let their guard down." Mike nods. The Chief gives Mike a stern, but apologetic look. "You'll be on your own though. No one can know about this until you're sure that you've got enough to send him away for good. I am the only person here who knows, and once you're set up with your wire, we'll have meetings only once you think you have something."

"Understood."

*…Flashback times are all DONE!...*

_With the acquisition of a gun, soon I'll finally have something to talk about._ Closing his locker, Mike double checks the wire he has attached to the back of his good-luck protection amulet before looping it over his head and tucking it beneath his undershirt.

He's just finished buttoning the top two buttons, and is reaching for his hat when he hears Finn's voice call out from the doorway, "Rookie, I brought you donuts. Let's go grab a seat in the bullpen."

Mike straightens his hat in the mirror and closes the locker with a clang. Pulling on his naïve newbie face, Mike smiles and falls in step behind Finn.

…**Nagging Questions**

Sue wakes up in the office, and looks at the wall one last time. Something was still nagging her. Why hadn't they gotten any ransom calls for the missing baby? There was a hefty reward offered by Shelby's estate and still no one beyond the usual crackpots had called in tips. Something was missing. Who wouldn't ask for ransom money, but would keep the baby? Puck. Maybe this wasn't about the money, but about the baby? Only one person would shoot Shelby just to take Beth. Puck. He was the obvious answer. Yet, it didn't sit right. Unless she could put the smoking gun in his hand, in her gut Sue knows that Puck is being set up. _But by who?_

Flipping her thinking around, she wonders, _What if this was about the money?_ Maybe everything went south in the alley. _So, where was the baby? _If killing Shelby meant no money, what was the point in taking the baby in the first place?

Something clicks in Sue's mind. Whoever took the baby had another way to get money and still needed the baby to make it work. Sue wonders, _Who would be willing to shell out more than the $50,000 ransom offered for Beth?_

More importantly, how would the killer know? Sue shakes her head. _Unbelievable._ She forgot a photo. Sue tacks a picture of Becky Johnson up on the wall. _She was there and she knows something. The killer is someone that Becky is scared of. New question: Who has the cojones to scare Becky?_

After a quick shower and a fresh change of clothes, Sue is no closer to the answer.

"Top o'the mornin' to ya, Sir." Rory tosses Sue a fresh donut from the titty-bar. Nodding in thanks, Sue says, "Thanks, but you need to keep in mind that this here's Amerrr-rrica, and the only Irish Spring we wanna see is in the shower." Rory smiles at Sue and hands her a coffee, black of course. "I'll be makin' a note o'that, sir. Good ta see you feelin' better."

"Change of plans, Lucky Charms. _We_ are going to pick up Puck ourselves, but we'll still have the uniforms meet us there and give his place a once over."

"Why?"

"Something's off about this entire case. I want to see how he reacts during the ride over. We'll have Figgins waiting for us when we get back."

"You don't think he did it, do ya?" Sue shakes her head. "Me either. That Figgins fellow talked me ear half off about his pimp wit'a heart. Plus your ex-cop friend from the diner also had nothing but good things to say about him."

"And," Sue says, swallowing her last bite of donut, "he didn't give Lady Lips heartburn either. He was quick to say the mysterious Matt was an enemy of the State, but not his wife's friend the pimp."

"A'course he would have been singin' a different tune if he'da known about the wee love child."

Tossing her cup into the trash, jump shot style, Sue says, "Let's go round up Neanderthal and Jackie Chan. They can follow us to Noah Puckerman's place. We'll bring him back here for questioning and maybe then we'll get some real answers."

* * *

><p><strong>Part Two: The Monster Within<strong>

The smell of coffee and light sounds in the kitchen draw Quinn from her large comfy bed and down the winding staircase. Her soft footfalls cause Sam to pause momentarily, his eyes darting to her face before focusing back on his coffee. "Didn't hear you come in last night."

Quinn pauses, hearing an edge to Sam's voice that catches her by surprise. Shaking it off as she reaches for an empty mug, she says testily, "Well you were sleeping in the _guest room_ so I'm not surprised."

Turning to place his backside against the counter, still not looking directly at her, Sam responds with, "A detective came by to see you last night." After taking a pause to let that tidbit sink in, he continues with, "A _homicide_ detective."

Quinn fills her coffee cup, figuring there must be some big misunderstanding. "Funny, I don't recall killing anyone." Quinn's attempt at humor is lost on Sam.

Flatly, he says, "Well someone killed Shelby Cochrane and they seem to think that _you _are somehow involved."

Raising her eyebrows to add to the dramatically flabbergasted expression on her face, Quinn responds with, "That's crazy. I don't even know a Shelby Cochrane." She's looking at him as if he's crazy.

"Show choir director, I competed against her team in college." The curtness in Sam's voice ebbed away at Quinn's good mood.

With a little flap of her hands, she says, "Oh, well in that case, maybe her name rings a very small bell."

Sam's mouth quirks at the corners, it's twitching only confirming that his bad mood is here to stay. "She really got a bum deal. Not only did she get shot, but someone kidnapped her _daughter_." Placing his coffee mug on the counter with a _plink, _Sam turns to face Quinn standing next to him, to gauge her reaction.

Quinn does an extra slow blink before responding, trying to convince herself that she only thought she heard a slight stress on the word _daughter_. "That's terrible, but really Sam, I don't see what this has to do with me."

Sam is now squared off in front of her, arms folded across his broad chest. "They showed me a picture of the kid Quinn." The way she goes suddenly still, avoiding his gaze, trying to make herself disappear, is all the answer he needs. He doesn't need to ask her if the baby is hers. He knows. Smiling at the perverseness of it all he continues. He asks in a deceptively calm voice, "So, that's why you transferred into school so late. Why you were so self conscious about your weight when we first met." With each question he moves closer and closer to her, trying to discern the truth. "You'd just had a baby…and…and you didn't think I needed to know." He turns away, a deep frown across his face. He grips the edge of the counter with both hands, unable to physically face her while he said the next part. "They asked me about Puck." Still looking at the cabinets lining the wall, and making her feel as if she is under the largest microscope at the same time, Sam asks, "Is he the father?" The first hints of disappointed rage have started to creep into his voice. From Quinn he again receives no response. Walking a tight circle of exasperation, Sam asks, "Is that why you still keep in touch with him?" Pointing one slightly trembling finger in her face, he spits out, "Are you still sleeping with him?"

"No! Of course not. It was just that one time, before I met you!"

Pretty sure that only about half of what she says is the truth, if that, Sam asks, "Then what is it Quinn? Why did you lie about not having kids? Why did you lie even after the miscarriage?"

Going on the defensive, Quinn replies with, "I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to think that I was a whore and judge me based on a stupid mistake from my past." She isn't used to being in this position with Sam. Growing more and more irritated and unable to keep it to that, she adds snidely, "Of course I know now that that wouldn't have mattered." If Sam wants to go there, then she'll go there.

It takes Sam a few moments to realize that she's referring to Mercedes. Stepping forward quickly, he leans in just inches from her face and hisses, "Keep her out of this. This is between you and me." Pulling back, he shakes his head. "Stop with the distractions. This is about us."

Narrowing her eyes, she retorts, "I'm just pointing out that I'm not the only one with secrets." Seeing Sam's eyeroll only intensifies her growing rage. She jabs her finger into the center of his chest. "I'm not the only one with friends my spouse has never met."

Before he can stop himself he swipes away her hand so swiftly and with such force that she spins half around. Some of that is definitely her adding a dramatic flair to make him feel bad, but part of it is because he can feel himself starting to lose control. He's never been so livid and utterly appalled with her before in his life. All he can think about is how much of what they had was built around lies. To lie about something a big as a baby meant that she is capable of lying about any and everything. The very thought of that makes him tremble slightly. Pulling at his hair, to keep from shaking her, Sam lets out a growl of frustration. "You know what, next time we meet for research you are more than welcome to join us." He smirks when her bravado drops. "I have to wait for her to call me though. And no, I can't do it tomorrow, because I don't know where she lives and I gave her my business card, but didn't get any contact information from her." Sliding in closer, he says decisively, "Because she is just my friend and research partner; nothing more." Looking up at the ceiling, he adds, "And just so we're clear, I don't have a kid with her that I gave away and then lied about."

Quinn had expected Sam to get all defensive about his whore, not offer to introduce them. "Whatever. I don't want to talk to you anymore about this. It was none of your damn business alright!"

"It?" Sam lets out a heavy sigh. " 'It' is a baby girl, and it's not the baby that bothers me so much; it's the lies about the baby." Sadness starts to tinge his voice, revealing just how heartfelt Sam's thoughts about starting a family really are. Voice cracking with emotion, he whispers, "You know how much I want children and I thought you did too, but you've already started a family with someone else."

Rolling her eyes, she says, "Puck, Beth, and I were never a family." Sam looks at her, Quinn's casual and off-putting attitude starting to make him feel a little sick. "It was one stupid night that I still regret. It should have been you, but I didn't know you then. I'm sor—"

Cutting off whatever else she is about to spin, not wanting to hear more dances around the truth, he asks quickly, "Is that why you still haven't cried?"

"What?"

She wants to pretend that she doesn't understand, that she doesn't know what he's referring to, but the ice that creeps into her eyes belies her ignorance. Affecting a casual tone of his own, Sam looks her dead in the eyes and says, "I mean, you had already had one baby and maybe you really weren't that broken up when we lost our baby." His eyes were like lasers boring an emerald path into her soul, searching for the truth. In her opinion he's not ready for the truth, and she will never tell him anyway. To save herself, she falls on her sword.

Coloring her voice with shame and an edge of offence, she says, "You don't have the right to ask me that. You don't have the right to look at me that way. You have no idea how much it hurt." Looking over to see if he believes her, and finding herself unable to tell, she quickly adds, "…how much it still hurts." He narrows his eyes at her, fighting with himself about whether or not he believes her. Unable to believe that things have turned so quickly, Quinn goes one last time to Sam's only dishonor so far in their short marriage. "You pick up _whores_ off of the street and you have the nerve to look at me like that?" Then she does something that shocks Sam. Quinn reaches out lightning quick and slaps him across the side of his face.

Sam closes his eyes against the sting on his skin. Rather than feeling sorry for going after her, all he can think is, _The lady doth protest mightily._ Something else is going on, of that he is sure. But he can't fathom what it could be. One thing he does know for sure though is that the woman he fell in love with not even a year ago, is not the woman standing in front of him right now. He wonders if she was ever real to begin with. Opening his eyes, he stares into Quinn's eyes again. A sinking sick feeling has started to grow in his stomach. If this was all just a big sham, then he's been cheated. All he can think is that if this marriage is to survive then they needed help. Deep down, in a place that he can ignore for now, he thinks, _I know now that this isn't where I should be. In truth it never was. _

Sam scoffs at Quinn for slapping him. Gently touching his face, he says simply, "It's just the _truth_." His eyes never once waiver, and hold hers in an endless stare. "Without it where does that leave us?" Stepping closer he says, "_Truth_, Mercedes is not a whore." Closer, "_Truth_, as far as I can tell you have never shed one tear over our lost child." Closer still, "_Truth_, if you can stand there, look me in the eye, and tell me that you cried when I was gone or when I was asleep and that your heart is truly broken then I will do everything I can to make everything right between us." Quinn starts trembling as she tries to will the tears and words that he so desperately needs to hear out. The tears come, but they fall out of fear. Fear that she is about to lose everything. The words never come because they were never there to begin with. Closing the last of the distance between their bodies and faces, leaving only a slip of space between them, Sam says, "_Truth_, Mercedes, my very good friend, cried for _our_ lost child."

Inwardly he can't help the fleeting thought of, _Really Sam, very good friend…_ But just like that, his one bright thought has flickered away as his eyes refocus on Quinn. His entire demeanor changes in an instant. "Go. Now." He extends his arm, pointing for the door. "Just get out. I can't look at you right now and I don't think you should be here."

Frowning, Quinn asks, "Go? Where?"

"I don't care." Upset, but not upset enough to really hurt her, he adds, "I have an account at The Excelsior. Pack a bag and get out."

Quinn wanted him to feel guilty and to leave her alone. She realizes that he must really just be friends with that whore Mercedes. A small almost imperceptible venomous look slides across her face. She thinks, _She's still a whore, stupid naive Sam. It __will__ happen eventually and I will make him eat his own words when it does._ Aloud she pleads, "But I was trying to apologize."

"Not _one_ tear Quinn?"

"I—I have a really hard exterior. I've had to deal with a lot. I never cry, about anything. You know that." She hopes to play her pity card. Crossing her arms, she says, "I like to pretend that I don't have feelings, it's safer that way." Shyly she looks at him and offers a weak smile. "You know that."

She makes a good point, but as usual, she wrapped it in a lie, and Sam has grown tired of her lies. "Granted, you are tough, but you are also duplicitous." She jerks her head up fast at his words. "You grew up in a house just like this only bigger. I figure that up until you got pregnant you had everything you ever wanted served to you on a gold platter with a silver spoon." She fights to keep her face neutral as he dismantles her truths and half truths, tossing the lies aside as he does. "Dumb luck that I caught my big break around the same time we got together, right?" He cocks his head to one side. "Is that what I'm supposed to believe?" Shaking his head violently, he screams, "No, GET OUT! Come back in a few days, but GET OUT OF MY SIGHT NOW!"

Backing away quickly as if the heat behind his words could physically burn her, she sputters, "You're not going to give me another chance? Is—is this the end? Bu—but I love you."

Seeing what he hopes is a glimmer of truth, Sam's anger recedes a bit. "Look I just need time to think and to come to terms with everything I just learned." Trying to calm himself, but still hurting, he says, "So no, I don't think I am going to divorce you, but, like you said before, I just realized that I don't really know you, do I?"

Feeling as if Sam has just slapped her hard across the face, Quinn disappears upstairs to pack an overnight bag. She slips out of the door and is gone shortly thereafter. The sound of squealing tires the only indication that she's left.

As she peals out of the driveway, all she can think is, _This is all Puck's fault. _

* * *

><p><strong>Part Three: WOMEN<strong>

…**Barbie Girl**

_KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK_…

Someone is trying to kick his door in. After sending Mercedes to hide in the en-suite bathroom, Puck cautiously peers through the peephole. He almost doesn't open the door. But, against his better judgment, he unlocks the door and lets Quinn in.

Not even bothering to look even remotely happy to see her, he says dryly, "What do you want?"

"What makes you think I want anything?" Puck scrunches his eyebrows up, keeping one eye on her as he closes the door. "Fine. But I just want to talk. Matty gave me some info and I sorta jumped the gun and got myself into trouble with Sam."

"And?" Puck is completely unconcerned.

Exasperated, Quinn replies, "And? And my perfect husband may be having an affair." She shakes her head looking at Puck to see if cares. He doesn't.

Shrugging, Puck says, "I didn't tell him, and you should know by now that Matty info comes at a price and it's never what you want to pay. He'll get what's his or you're screwed. That's how he works."

Running her fingers through her hair, flustered, she sighs and says, "Everything is so effed up right now. Somehow Sam found out about Beth."

Grabbing her by the wrists, Puck asks, "What has he heard about her? Did somebody contact him for ransom?"

Pulling away, confused, she responds with, "What? No. The cops told him about her. What's going on with her anyway?" Quinn is so focused on her problems that she has forgotten about Shelby's murder and little kidnapped Beth.

"She's _missing_." Puck walks away farther into the apartment.

Quinn follows him through the dining area, and pulls out a seat at the table. "Sorry to hear that."

Puck knows that Sam must have told her why the cops were there. He thinks, _Selfish bitch._ Aloud he sneers, "Are you now?" Coming to stand over her at the table, he says, "Matt gave me some info too ya'know." Quinn's eyes go wide with apprehension. "He told me about that little favor you owe him for helping you take care of your last little bundle of joy."

She cuts her eyes at him. "Well he does work at the hospital and he knows a lot of doctors." Waiving her hands in front of her matter-of-factly, she adds, "and it's not like I could get it done at my doctor's office."

"Yeah, since your _husband_ could have found out, footing the bills and all." Leaning down, he says, "I feel sorry for the dude, he married a fake-ass heartless rat and he don't even know it."

Giving him her best FU smile, she says, "Whatever, when we're ready we'll have another. No harm, no foul."

"Like I said, heartless rat."

Both of them look up and towards the sleeping area when they hear a loud clanging noise.

"What was that? Is there somebody here?" Jumping up from her seat, Quinn takes two steps towards Puck's bedroom before he stops her. She looks at him as if his hand was going to give her the plague.

Before Puck can respond, Mercedes pokes her head out from behind the partition, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry to interrupt, I knocked something over, and of course it's the loudest noise ever when you're trying to be quiet." Mercedes has never seen Quinn before and she hadn't been eavesdropping. She thought that this girl was one of Puck's friends. Unfortunately Quinn has seen a picture of Mercedes before (while she was getting into Sam's car.)

Trying to get around Puck, she shouts, "You!" She pulls back in order to jab Puck in the chest with her finger, while shooting daggers out of her eyes at Mercedes still standing in the bedroom archway. "I should have known that he was seeing one of your whores. They are always the nastiest on the strip."

Putting two and two rapidly together, Mercedes knows instantly that this blonde woman with the pale green eyes is Sam I Am's wife. She can't keep her eyes from sizing her up. _Oh my God, she's his wife. Look at her. _Her eyes drift from her blonde ponytail to her delicate though rather grandma looking designer dress to her ankle booted feet. _Together they're like a flippin matching set._ She swallows hard, and looks down, instantly feeling ugly. It doesn't help that Quinn is giving her the dirtiest, most condescending look that she can muster. The feeling only lasts a moment, but it leaves in its wake a slightly put out Mercedes.

Still in Puck's face, Quinn asks, "What the hell is she doing here?" Without waiting for an answer, she looks at Mercedes as she says, "You fucking him too like my Sam?"

Puck is a little slower to pull the pieces together, but now he sees how Mercedes writer friend from the day before is unbelievably connected to Quinn. "Hold up, just who the hell do you think you are coming into our place like you own it talking to my girl like that?" He begins to walk towards the door, trying to force Quinn back with him. "Get to steppin'. Now."

Brushing him aside and laughing in his face, Quinn iterates, "Your girl? Our place? Interesting."

Walking towards her, using his body to force her back, Puck repeats his order. "Get the fuck out now. I'm through with you."

Quinn looks at the girl in the kitchen. She cannot fathom what it is she has to offer that has turned not only Puck but her husband against her. Eyes sliding back over to Puck, she says, "Whatever Puck. You were always just a pity fuck anyway." She grabs her purse off of the small table by the door. Throwing another venom filled look at Mercedes, she declares, "My husband Sam will be just fine, and I'll go back home tomorrow. It was just a _lover's _quarrel."

Chuckling, Puck can barely get out, "The way you flew in here all worried? I call bullshit."

After rolling her eyes at Puck, Quinn catches what she interprets as amusement on Mercedes' face. "Don't look so happy over there. Tomorrow I'll be back in my _perfect_ house with my _perfect_ husband living my _perfect_ life. Fairy-_fucking_-tale." Stepping closer to Mercedes, who doesn't move even a fraction of an inch at her approach, Quinn spits, "Tomorrow you'll still be a _worthless_ whore, living a _worthless_ life, fucking her _worthless _pimp every day." Giving Mercedes her back, Quinn stands there adjusting her makeup in the mirror beside the door.

All Mercedes can think is, _How on earth did Sam end up with you, you're such an…ugly person? _She quickly brings her hand over her mouth when she sees Quinn's nostrils flare. Apparently she wasn't just thinking it, she'd asked aloud.

Chuckling wryly and shaking his head, Puck places an arm between the two girls, just in case. He says to Mercedes, "Don't let this trifling gold digger get to you Cedes. Just cuz you put lipstick on a pig, don't meant that bitch ain't got the swine."

_Gold digger?_ Mercedes narrows her focus on the blonde.

Quinn's reflection gives Puck a long measured look from the mirror. Putting her lipstick away, rolling her neck as she does, she gives him the finger. Then an amused look crosses her face. Looking again from Puck to Mercedes, she says, "So I guess that's your type. Pigs. I'd rather be a pig on the inside than look like one on the outside." Her eyes slide from Mercedes' amber brown eyes to her feet, disgust plain.

"If anyone's a hoe around here it's you. You the only bitch in this room that spreads her legs for money. And only a straight up bitch would take away her man's chance at being a dad." With a quick thrust of his chin, Puck again indicates that it is time for Quinn to go. Mercedes looks at Puck with a question in her eyes.

"Oh, so you would have had your little whore raise Beth?" Quinn smirks at Mercedes, whose eyes grow even wider as her mind connects more dots.

_Oh my God, she's married to Sam I Am and she's Puck's baby-mama? What the…_

"Better than you would have, but at least you gave her away, gave her a chance." Hurrying her much needed exit along, Puck opens the door for Quinn, indicating with a flourish of his hand that she should go.

Adjusting her purse on her shoulder, Quinn says, "You were never my man."

As she stands there in the threshold, he spits back, "Well your man's gonna kick your ass to the curb when he finds out what you did to his baby."

"The word of a pimp against the word of his wife?"

"The word of a pimp that you fucked and had a baby with against the word of his lying skank of a wife who got rid of his baby before he even got a chance." She begins to shake, hearing the truth in his statement. "I may be a pimp, but I ain't a liar, and I know exactly what he's gonna think when he finds out."

In a breathy whisper, Quinn asks, "Oh really, what's that?"

Smiling, Puck says, "He's gonna wonder why my baby lived and his died. He's gonna wonder what I did to you that night and he's gonna wonder if I'm still doing it to you on the regular."

"That's not true."

"Don't matter, that's what he'll think."

Quinn's face is reddening. "Fuck you."

Smiling even harder, Puck responds with, "Been there, done that. Get to steppin' gold digga."

As she turns to finally leave, Quinn launches a parting shot at Mercedes. "You stay the hell away from my husband, you whore."

With an eye on Mercedes, Puck says, "Ain't that the damn pot calling the kettle black." Then he slams door in Quinn's face.

…**A Woman's Worth**

Mercedes is conflicted. On the one hand she is hurt by Quinn's unfounded attack, but it's nothing that she hasn't heard before. On the other hand she is upset for Sam. She remembers those tears in his eyes, the way his voice cracked when he talked about his daughter, how saying her name made him smile, how he'd just learned to laugh again, and to find out that his wife is responsible for causing him all of that pain? As much as she wants to feel the insults and cuts from Quinn's words, the only pain she realizes that she feels is for Sam. She looks at Puck, who looks like he's about to break his hand punching the wall. She places her hand on his tensed forearm to get his attention and to keep him from accidentally hurting himself.

With anger still roiling in his hazel eyes, he turns towards her at her touch, drawing her into a deep hug. "Cedes are you okay? You know she just went on the attack to take the heat off of her own ass right?"

Into his chest she says, "Yeah, I know."

Still with his face pressed into her neck he says, "You're not a whore, even though you keep tryin'."

Again, into his chest she says, "Yeah, I know."

Letting his arms fall briefly, running along her waist and around the curve of her butt before settling them on her waist once more, he says, "You're not fat, unless it's the one that starts with a 'p'."

With the barest smile on her face, she acknowledges his words. "Yeah, I know."

Pulling back for the first time to look her in the eye, still touching at the waist, he says with conviction, "You're not worthless, not by a longshot."

Mercedes offers him no response other than a swift aversion of her eyes. Puck then pulls her in close, tucking her head under his chin, repeating, "You're not worthless. I know it's hard to see it, especially from where we're standing right now, but you're not worthless."

He can hear her sniffle and can feel a tear slide down the side of his next, soaking into his shirt collar. "I—I…"

He pulls back to look her in the eyes. "You are not worthless. Tana would be dead, pulled her knife on the wrong asshole a long time ago if it weren't for you being there to keep her balanced." Closing his eyes briefly, he opens them and says, "You saved me too. I woulda' given up, o—on everything after Sunshine if I didn't have you. I couldn't tell i—if we were friends. The rest of it, the sex; that was just dessert. I just wanted a friend. I've had friends; people that have had my back forever who were nowhere to be found after Sunshine got killed." He leans down close to her face, forehead to forehead, nose to nose, repeating, "You are not worthless." Straightening up he cocks his head to the side and says, "Correction. Figgins says express the positive."

Quietly she asks, "What does that mean?"

"Baby, that means that I should tell you what you're worth instead." Taking his finger to and pointing into the center of her chest, moving it up quickly to lift her lowered chin, he declares, "You are worth more than your weight in fucking gold." Taking her hand, giving it a gentle kiss, he further declares, "You are worth more than this miserable life I pulled you into." A smile plays at the corner of his mouth. Wiggling his eyebrow at her, he says, "You are worth more than a little sumthin' at the end of the day." Walking away quickly to put some space between them, he stops after his fourth step, and turns back around to face her. Hands at his sides, eyes totally locked on hers, he says, "You are worth so much more than I could ever give you, no matter how hard I try." He looks away quickly, running his hands over his face and through his Mohawk.

Mercedes' brow furrows slightly. She closes the distance that he'd just put between them, taking his hands away from his face. Holding his hands, and standing on her tiptoes to maintain eye contact, she simply whispers, "What? Where is this coming from?"

Giving her the stare down she's trying to force, he responds with, "Don't play dumb with me girl. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

She just looks up causing more tears to roll down the side of her face. "Why now, just when…"

"Just when the man of your fucking dreams comes in?" He forces out a dry empty chuckle, intertwining his fingers with hers. "Isn't that when all this shit's supposed to come out?" He smiles to take the bite out of his words.

Shaking her head, all Mercedes can say is, "I can't."

"I know." Puck presses his forehead to Mercedes' once again. "You know since you and Tana moved in I haven't been with anybody else, except that one time with Quinn. And that was only because y'all were gone visiting Esi at college. I don't know what I'm gonna do with myself once you guys are gone for good."

Mercedes is even more heartbroken. "Puck, you know we love you." He nods. "But you know that it was never gonna work like that, right?"

"I know." He can tell that she's thinking about something else, something even sadder than leaving him. "What? What is it?"

"You know she's right. I'm not his wife, and even if he were interested, I don't wanna be some piece on the side, kept like some toy in a box. Then I'd really be a whore."

Puck presses his lips to the top of her head. "Never. If he does, I'll kill him."

Mercedes hugs him, whispering, "That shouldn't make me feel better, but it does." Pulling out of the hug, she says, "You know we'll never totally leave you. Santana is straight up ride or die and you know that where she goes I go."

"I know." He then releases a sigh that is meant to let it all, namely her, go. "Weight in gold, baby, weight in gold."

Finally smiling, she nods her head and answers with, "Yeah, I know."

Taking his eyes off of her and focusing on the door he says, "Now get outta hear and go get your man." After quickly grabbing her purse, Cedes leaves.

_KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK_…

Puck thinks that it's Quinn come back for more, but waiting for him in the hallway instead of Barbie he finds Detective Sylvester, Detective Flanagan, and Officers Hudson and Chang.

"Shit, man I didn't do it; don't even need to know what. I didn't do it."

* * *

><p><strong>Part Three-point-five: Search and Seizure<strong>

Stepping into the apartment, Sue says, "I'll be the judge of that."

Finn reminds Puck that technically they don't need a warrant since he's on probation. Looking at him wearily, Puck says, "Yeah, but you need probable cause."

Rory answers that with, "Oh, don'tcha fret, she has plenty'o that."

In a stern voice, Sue says, "Let's take a ride downtown. I have a few questions and something tells me that you have the answers."

As Rory leads him out, he asks, "Are you even gonna tell me what this is about?" Sue shakes her head.

However, Puck overhears her telling Finn and Mike, "Let me know if you find anything resembling a gun...or a baby."

Puck hollers into the apartment as they lead him away. "I wouldn't have a gun as that would be a violation of my probation that would immediately have my sentence converted to hard time."

Finn ignores him and heads into the back bedroom. Closing the door on the three receding figures Mike wonders, _No way that Finn knew that Sue was coming for Puck, so why did he take Puck's gun?_

Not surprisingly, Finn and Mike fail to find a gun in Puck's apartment. They are not interested in the knife and brass knuckle collection, and don't find any drugs or any signs of a baby. Mike notes that Finn pockets a roll of money.

In the squad car Finn peels off a wad of cash and passes it to Mike. Mike looks at him with a funny expression. "What's that, two, three, fou..._five hundred dollars_? What's this for?"

Nonchalantly Finn says, "For your troubles." Mike smiles and pockets the money. "Don't say that I didn't take care of you."

Mike keeps his eyes focused on the road ahead, thinking, _In for a penny out for a pound. _

* * *

><p><strong>Part Four: Seven Hundred and Ninety-Nine <strong>

About ten minutes past the front door, Mercedes finds herself on the stirp. Looking down as she places one hightop sneaker in front of the other, she asks, _Where am I going? __I can't exactly walk over to his house since I don't know where that is._ She looks down in dismay at her clothes. She's put together, but her very casual outfit is not exactly 'run and go get your man' worthy.

_How the hell am I going to go get him? _Stopping, she thinks, _This is foolish. __He's married and not interested._ Out here, tracing the most familiar seven hundred and ninety-nine steps ever, she feels dismay. But just like that feeling of ugliness that washed over her before, it fades away as she thinks about Sam's eyes practically undressing her over dessert. The light breeze only acts to heighten the feel of heat that rushes to her face. _Okay so maybe he is, but I don't want an affair. I want love. That's all I've ever wanted._

Sure, Puck and Santana love her, but she wants that romantic head spinning true love kind of love. Looking back she sees Sugar's thin figure topped in her signature cotton ball pink hat at the far end of the street. _She's right. I do still believe in fairytales. And I believe that I deserve real love._ But, is she meant to have it with Sam? Someone who is already married to someone else. Someone that she just met. Someone who despite the recent attack on her perpetrated by his wife, has her grinning foolishly as she thinks about how her heart fluttered when his fingers brushed against her hand. Someone that made her world dizzy with Technicolor when he held her in his arms and whispered 'tomorrow'. Just thinking about his laugher washing over her the other day in the diner makes her feel heady. This is the first time in her life that she's ever felt this way.

_Is that what this is? Is Puck right?_ She stops walking. She has finished her first round, silently counting each step. Now at the end of the first trip, she takes the familiar turn, and realizes that she is about to retrace her steps. _No._ Even though it's only been a few days, so much has already changed. Nothing and everything. She looks down the sidewalk and sees familiar faces and figures, all walking the same seven hundred and ninety-nine steps. _To where? _She sees Sugar getting closer. Rather than walk over an endless band of sidewalk that she's memorized every rut, groove, stain, and crack of, she goes to cross the street. _I know what this is…_

Quietly it starts. "I've made up my mind, Don't need to think it over; If I'm wrong, I am right; Don't need to look no further, This ain't lust; I know this is love…"

Mercedes strides across the street, leaving Sugar and other girls behind, thinking, _I have compromised so much, lost so much, almost given up and yet I refuse to be cheated again. I know what I feel._ _And I want it all. But how does he feel?_

Sandy is waiting for her on the other side of the street. She grabs his hands and they do a little ballroom style dance down the sidewalk as she continues singing softly. "But, if I tell the world; I'll never say enough; 'cause it was not said to you; And that's exactly what I need to do; If I end up with you…"

Sandy spins her in a circle, twirling her three times round before sending her away from the strip. Thinking, _Even if he doesn't feel the same, this feeling is worth fighting for. And his wife is a trifling hoe. He deserves better. _Slowly the thought tumbles forth, gaining power. _I would be better._

She smiles, swearing that the sun just started to shine a little brighter.

Her voice is strong as she walks on, away from her old life and towards something new. "Should I give up, Or should I just keep chasin' pavements? Even if it leads nowhere; Or would it be a waste; Even if I knew my place; Should I leave it there; Should I give up, Or should I just keep chasin' pavements; Even if it leads nowhere….."

_But how? _She knows what she should do, but she questions if it is her place. _What kind of friend would I be if I didn't tell him? _

"I build myself up; And fly around in circles; Waitin' as my heart drops; And my back begins to tingle; Finally, could this be it…"

After saying a quick prayer, she decides.

A good friend is not afraid to say the things that are hard to hear, if they really need to be heard. Sam needs to know what Quinn did. Mercedes could never face those beautiful green eyes again if she didn't tell him. She just hopes that he can forgive her. Sighing, she realizes that at some point she's going to have to tell Puck about Matt too.

Too many dark secrets, too many heartbreaking lies, too many shady favors, too many tears shed over things that should never have been hidden in the first place. Resolutely, Mercedes decides that it ends now, with her. Not telling has only ever brought her more pain. The time for fear and cowering in hushed silence is past. She can see the light at the end of the tunnel, and she's ready to run for it with arms wide open.

She takes out her phone and hits the call button. "I'm calling in my favor."

* * *

><p><strong>End Notes:<strong>

Headcannon, headcannon…they all love themselves some Mercedes Jones.

So now you don't have to worry about Mike being on the wrong side, but that doesn't necessarily mean you still shouldn't be worried…

(pssstttt, y'all should read "Blood, Lust, and Bulletwounds" by Jadziwine. Just do it and thank me later :)

And I did use a must use. That whole lipstick/pig/swine line. The guys at work keep brining that one up in random meetings. I work with FREAKS. But they amuse me greatly.

Ummm, let me just say now that I am not the biggest fan of 'angry black woman' Mercedes. Sure, she could have ripped into Quinn and cut her down with equally ugly and vicious words, but why help the girl who is for sure going to hang herself by the end of the story any way and really only drag yourself down in the process? Besides, that would be a little OOC for this Mercedes. She is just starting to see and feel that reservoir of inner strength she has, and she's smarter too. Not to fear, Mercedes is about to turn Quinn's world upside down, and she won't have to resort to nasty name calling to do it. Just the truth.

Next up in CH 6 **Skeletons and Secrets: **Puck's interrogation with Sue might just crack the case wide open. Sam picks up Mercedes for another meeting, but this time there are no smiles, there is no laughter, and there is no Mama C-Chang to serve them food they didn't order. You have been warned! And we find out that Matt has been a snake from day one.

Thanks for reading and I hope that you liked it!


	7. CH 6: Skeletons and Secrets

**Disclaimer: I own nothing…'tis a shame, but 'tis true**

**CH 6: Skeletons and Secrets**

**Dear Readers: Thank you so much for the love y'all are sending this story. I find it so amusing that Howard Bamboo is the one who took Rookie Finn under his wings to teach him his shady ways. It's like the blind leading the blind. Happy St. Patrick's Day! As always, warnings are in CH 1/2.**

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><p><strong>Introduction: Once the skeletons come out and share their secrets with the world, it heralds the beginning of the eventual sticky end for quite a few of our characters.<strong>

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><p><strong>Part One: Oxymoron<strong>

Puck sits in a chair on the long side of the table in the interrogation room next to Mr. Figgins. With a quiet slap, Sue lays down the crime scene photos, placing the one with Shelby's dead body front and center. She is looking at Puck and Puck is looking at the photos. His eyes are moving from the first one, to the middle one, but they stay on the last one. The last photo is of the alley after the body was removed. It's of what the detectives found under the body. Slowly his hand reaches out and traces the pacifier. "What do you want from me?"

"Let's start with the truth. Why did you send Shelby a text to meet you in the alley?"

Puck tears his eyes away from the photo just long enough to turn it dirty, and sneer at Sue, "I didn't." Just as quickly, his eyes soften and shift back to the photo.

Taking away the photo, forcing Puck to look at her again, Sue says, "That's not gonna cut it. Can anybody corroborate your story?"

Nodding, Puck says, "Yeah. Mercedes. I told her that I couldn't find my phone. She found it, but I swear that somebody musta took it and put it back by the time I got back from my check in with Figgins. She said she heard someone in the place and I know it wasn't me."

"How? Maybe her timeline is off?"

Puck snickers just a little. "It wasn't me. Cuz I would have tried to jump her bones in the shower."

Rory's pen pauses momentarily on the pad of paper. Just how is he supposed to record that? "And she is an associate of yours?"

"Roommate."

Clearing her throat, Sue asks, "Is your _roommate_ usually home during the day?"

"No. She's usually out." Puck starts to drop some of his tough guy façade. He expected to be ripped to shreds, but he's starting to think that she believes him.

"Who else has access to your apartment?"

"My other _roommate_ Santana, my friend Matt, and this other girl named Sugar."

Looking at Rory, she says to Puck, "Right. We're gonna need last names."

He runs his hands through his Mohawk. Never did he ever think that he'd be the one snitching on his friends to the cops, but he also didn't think he'd ever have kids, or be caught in the middle of a murder. "Lopez, Rutherford, and I don't know Sugar's last name."

Leaning down, Sue asks, "You don't know her last name?" Puck shakes his head no. Sue knows that Puck and Matt are longtime friends. She is willing to assume that he's known Jones and Lopez for a while too. Sugar is a new name to her. "Who is this Sugar person?"

Shrugging, Puck answers with, "Just a junkie off the streets."

Mockingly, Sue repeats, "_A junkie. _A junkie with a key to your place and you're not worried about her stealing from you?"

He huffs. "Sugar? Hell no. Her daddy is a real life sugar-daddy. Whenever she looks like she's about to fall off, she meets someone somewhere and next thing you know she's flush with cash for months. Her daddy doesn't speak to her anymore, but he still sends her money when she needs it. He still loves her, but can't stand what she's doing to herself. Don't know how, and I don't ask."

_Rich girl gone bad. _"Is Sugar even her real name?" Puck shrugs noncommittally. Even though she knows the answer, Sue still asks, "How long have you known all of them?" She wants to know if Puck will tell her the truth.

"Matt since grade school, Mercy and San for a few years. Sugar around a year." Sue walks away to ponder her next question. In the silence, Puck asks timidly, "Ha—have you heard anything about Beth? I mean, who would the kidnapper call for ransom with Shelby dead?"

Icily, Sue replies, "We can't discuss the details of an ongoing investigation."

Puck explodes. "This is BULLSHIT!" Mr. Figgins puts a calming hand on his arm, pulling him back down into his seat. Puck looks at him, still burning with anger. "But I'm her father, and I never got a chance. I have just a much of a right to know as the next guy. I _never_ signed anything saying otherwise."

With more warmth in her eyes, Sue takes a measured look at Noah Puckerman. "Seriously?" Puck nods his head. Rory looks at Sue. They both can see that his concern is genuine. Sue rolls her eyes. Of course, everything was never this easy. The pimp with the heart of gold; totally true, and absolutely unbelievable. Taking the seat across from Mr. Figgins and Puck, next to Rory, Sue says, "This stays in this room, you understand me?" Puck straightens up in his chair, nodding quickly. "We don't like you for this. But everything we've uncovered so far is pointing to you." Half-jokingly Sue says, "You don't by any chance own a revolver do you?"

Puck warily looks at Mr. Figgins. "Noah? What is it? You don't have that gun do you? The one that shot Ms. Cochrane?" Puck looks at Sue, who cannot believe this. He looks back at Mr. Figgins. "Noah, I think Detective Sylvester only wants the truth. If you are innocent, then she will not use whatever you tell her against you." Mr. Figgins looks at Sue. "Right Sue?"

Dryly she says, "Right. Do you have a gun?"

"No—not…not anymore."

Mr. Figgins slides back away from the table quickly. "Oh Noah, really? Why?"

Puck looks at Mr. Figgins. "Man, you know why. But I never did anything other than carry it around. I swear. I've never shot it and to be honest the only people I've ever flashed it at were friends and acquaintances."

"Hrmp." Sue sits up in her chair and laces her finger behind her head. "Suppose for the time being, I believe you. What do you mean you don't have it anymore?"

Again, Puck looks at Mr. Figgins, who just nods his head. "This _guy_ took it off of me just the other day."

"What guy?" Silence. Rory leans in and says, "Answer the question, what guy?"

"The kind of guy that when he takes it, you walk away and don't ask questions."

Full of confusion, Rory looks at Sue and asks, "What?

Sue understands perfectly. "A cop. And I can just guess which one." She and Puck share a knowing look. "Puck, you're free to go, for now. Speak of this to no one, not even your _associates_. You got me?"

"Yeah."

"I'm serious; I don't want to see anyone else get killed. There's more going on than meets the eye."

"I won't talk to anybody about this as long as you do your best to find Beth."

Giving him her hand to shake, she says, "I will."

Placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, Mr. Figgins says, "Come on Noah, I'll give you a ride back to your apartment."

As soon as the door closes, Rory exclaims, "Oh my God. He's talking about Officer Hudson right?" Sue nods yes. "What are we gonna do about him?"

"Right now nothing. I will have to make a few calls, very discreetly regarding that cop. For now we act as if nothing has changed." Rory opens his mouth to argue, and Sue holds up her hand. "Just trust me on this Rory." Rory is about to protest further, but hearing Sue use his correct name gives him pause.

Shaking his head, he says, "I still don't understand. How can we just stand by and do nothing? He has the murder weapon and he doesn't even know it. Why does he want it in the first place?"

"Don't know, but that's secondary. We'll bide our time with Hudson. He's an idiot and he'll screw up. I'd bet good money on that. Remember, we're trying to catch a killer, not a dirty cop, and Puck just gave us the short list." Rory's palm can be heard colliding with his forehead. "We figure that out and we'll figure out how Doughface is connected."

"Whoever it is they know Puck well enough to set him up, gain access to his phone, and his apartment without detection. He has no idea that he's in bed with a killer."

Sue adds, "And a kidnapper."

Rory runs Mercedes Jones' name and discovers that she's Finn CI.

_First with the gun and now the CI who happens to be Puck's roommate? How is Finn involved in this?_ Rory prints out a photo of Mercedes from the CI file and hands it to Sue, who adds it to the wall along with the others. She adds a question mark sheet for Santana Lopez and one for Sugar. She then draws a donut wearing a badge and tacks it up on the wall. "That's for Finn", thinking that just in case he gets lost and wanders into the room she would not want him to figure out that he is at the very least a person of interest.

Next, Rory hands Sue her dry erase marker. She draws a line from Puck to Matt (who is now connected to both he and Quinn). She also draws a line between all of the new photos/sheets and Noah Puckerman. Donut!cop is connected to Puck and Mercedes.

"Yup, the killer is up there now. I'm sure of it."

"Any guesses who?" No comment. "Well, I'll put money on that one." Rory taps one of the sheets on the wall.

"Maybe Lucky Charms, maybe."

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><p><strong>Part Two: Of Snakes, Men, and Innocent Babes<strong>

…**Veritaserum**

Mercedes slips her phone into her pocket and boards the bus to the hospital.

…

Tucking the folders under her arm, Mercedes takes the bus back to the strip. She calls Sam.

_Brrrrrr….brrrrrr….brrrrrr_

Sam isn't eager to talk to Quinn. It's too soon, not even one full day. He thinks, _Let her stew for a while. _Still, he looks at the caller ID. _Unknown caller._ Adrenaline floods his system as he thinks, _It could be Mercedes._ He hits the answer button just before the call goes to voicemail. "Hello?"

"H—hi Sam. Sam I Am." It's her. He falls back onto his couch with a flop, lying flat on his back. "I need to talk to you about something."

"Well, you have my undivided attention." No, he's not coming on too strong.

"What I have to tell you isn't something I can do over the phone." Her tone is soft and foreboding. It makes him cautious and a bit worried.

_What if Quinn went after her? I know she's been watching me. What if she's been watching Mercedes too? _His caution and bit of worry are quickly blossoming into panic and a full blown anxiety attack. Turning over quickly, he asks, "What's wrong? Is—is it Quinn? Did she do something to you?"

_Damn, he can read me like an open book. _"Lots of things are wrong, and yes it has to do with Quinn, but not something that she did to me." She pauses, and he can hear her swallow. "It—it's about something that she did to you."

"I know all about Beth."

"No, something else." Mercedes looks down at the medical files in her hand. Rereading the name on the tab, she says again, "I need to see you. I can't do this over the phone. Sam, please."

Rolling back over, he replays her plea in his head. _I need to see you. _Looking around his big empty house, he thinks_, I need to see you too. _"I told you, all you ever have to do is call."

She can hear something in his voice, in his response. Like he's answering her, but it's as if he can hear what she's thinking, and he's speaking to her thoughts too. Stumbling a little for words, she says, "I know, but…honestly I wanted to call you right after I got home. Pathetic right?" He shakes his head no, and for some reason, she can imagine him doing it at the same time. "It's just that talking to you was like nothing that has ever happened before. I'm cautious and I play tough, but…you blew through every wall I'd ever had in a matter of hours." She closes her eyes, embarrassed. "Instead of being scared, I just want more." _Of you, of everything…_

"Me too. You want to talk to me and I want to talk to you. I keep going over that afternoon in the diner. It was probably the best…" He's debating whether or not he should call it what it really ended up being, or if he should continue to pretend. _I've had enough with lies, even the ones I tell myself. _Mercedes is pretty sure that she knows what he'd stopped himself from saying. A little sinking hole starts to peel the wings off of the butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. "…date. Date, that's what it was. The best date I've ever had." She lets out a breath that she didn't know she had been holding. "I'd rather not talk about Quinn, but if that's where you want to start, then I'm not gonna fight it."

There it is again. Like he can hear what she is saying and everything that she chooses not to say. His answer is for both.

Quietly she says, "We have to start there. I just hope that we won't end there too."

The very thought makes Sam sit up quickly. He's shaking his head, knowing that he can't see it. "I can come to you."

"That works. I'll be—"

Sam quickly cuts her off. "I know where to find you. I'll be there in no time." He's already off of the couch, in his shoes, and grabbing his keys off of the counter.

"Okay, I'll be waiting."

…

Even thought she is the bearer of bad news, Mercedes can't fight the flutter in her stomach when she sees Sam's silver Mercedes pull up beside her. She is smiling with a heavy heart.

Sam parks and jumps out of the car and she damn near forgets why she called him in the first place. He knows that she has something, probably bad to tell him, but he's excited, practically bouncing towards her like a puppy. Suddenly he stops just in front of the driver's side headlight. He's got to calm down. _But shouldn't I get excited about seeing her? _He smiles at her and she lowers her hands to her sides. In his head, it's just them. Had someone asked him about Quinn, his answer would have been, _Quinn who?_ He's gone. He's been gone since that day he first saw Mercedes and heard her laugh, but he didn't know it. He knows it now. She's standing there wearing a pair of dark wash skinny jeans with a pair of cool looking high top sneakers. She's not showing any leg at all, no hint of flesh peeking out above the top of her pants, and yet he wants her. She's wearing a loose shirt, falling off of one shoulder, with some kind of bold gold and black writing across the front. It's not tight enough to trace all of the curves he knows she has, and the neck isn't low enough to let him glimpse any major cleavage, but it doesn't diminish the fact that he wants her. Her hair is down, done in gentle waves falling to her shoulders. It's not perfect, it looks natural, and it's begging him to run his fingers through it which only makes him want her more. Her makeup is minimal, just a little mascara and bright lush lip gloss. Again, it's not caked on to look like airbrushed perfection so he can still see a faint scar on her forehead, and yet he still wants her.

Mercedes didn't need to dress like a hooker to hook him. Sure, her dress from the lunch before was amazing, classy but teasing all at the same time, but he didn't need it to see everything about her that is making him stand there reminding himself that he can't just grab her, throw her over his shoulder, and take her off to his lair, straight-up caveman style. After a final mental shake, Sam trusts himself to approach.

The corners of Mercedes' mouth turn up as she watches the storm of emotion flicker across Sam's face. She sees excitement, lust, happiness, and a solid strength of mind. The smile he's wearing on his face makes her sway just a tiny bit on her feet. He's dressed every bit as casually as she is. His hair is messy, and his bangs keep falling across his eyes. His eyes are undressing her, again. She thought before that he must be in great shape, but his thin, skintight bright blue vintage superman t-shirt evaporates any and all doubts. The shirt clings to every rise of muscle and every fall between them. She can even see the outline of his nipples framing corners of the golden and red 'S' symbol emblazoned on the front of the shirt. And forget a six-pack. He had an eight pack. She thinks, _It could even be a ten pack if his jeans would ride just a bit lower._ She can feel herself rise up on to the balls of her feet as if the extra inch and a half it gave her would help her peer lower down her lashes for those other two packs or will the jeans down lower. _Dem jeans…_ Sam's jeans were also giving away a few secrets too. To Mercedes they looked well worn, like he'd had them forever. And just like a favorite beloved pair of jeans should, they fit Sam like a perfect faded blue glove. She could see his thighs flex beneath the fabric as he made his way around the front of the car. She could easily see the outline of his…_Oh holy hell. Get it together girl. _

Sam reaches across her glazed view to pull open the door. He places one light hand at the small of her back, sliding it up her side, and finally down her forearm to grip her hand as she slides into the passenger's seat. He stands there looking at his hand holding hers. She can see all of the hairs on his arms stand to attention. He can see tiny little goosebumps spread across her arm. She pulls her hand away and starts to fuss with the folder in her lap.

He gives her one quick grin before saying, "Buckle up". She watches him as he swings the door shut, taking a moment to let out a long hot breath before turning to walk back around the front of the car again.

Mercedes manages to push her naughty thoughts aside for about 3 seconds. Then she shamelessly watches Sam as he turns around to walk back to his side of the car. The two perfect globes of his butt said things to her, _dirty _things, as she watches him make his way back into the car. _whOoooohhhhhh. _Mercedes' lips are still pursed and forming a giant 'O' when Sam's door opens. He's pretty sure that he saw her fanning herself with the folder she's now clutching in her lap. Casually he smiles, and looks over at her. Even though he's trying to play it cool, the red telltale blush starts to creep its way up from the collar of his shirt over his ears.

"So, back to the diner?" He checks his side mirror, turning the key in the ignition.

Suddenly she is saddened to remember the reason for her call, and knowing that there will be no adorable imitations or laughter this afternoon, she answers quietly. "Can we go to your house instead?"

Sam had been focusing on pulling out of his parking spot, and only heard her response. He missed the miserable look that accompanied the question. His head whips around quickly, and he's greeted by an understanding and sympathetic look from Mercedes. Quickly reading her face, he has to work to douse the visible arousal that sparks in his eyes. The look is not lost on Mercedes, but that's not why she wants to go to his house. "I have something important to tell you and you shouldn't be driving when you hear it." Sam slows as if he's about to pull over again. "And it's the kind of news that you should hear in a safe place." He can see her eyes swimming with unshed tears.

"Is everything alright? Did I, did I do something wrong." Half looking at the road, and half looking at her, he says, "I'm sorry for looking at you like that. I—I know that we're friends, but…" thinking about his fight with Quinn, "I've been having a rough go of it and honestly I can't deny that if I could, I'd be willing to be more than friends."

Mercedes lightly touches the back of his hand. "Well, we'll see if you still feel that way after I give you the news. You may end up hating me."

"Never, I l—" clearing his throat abruptly, Sam looks quickly over his left shoulder to check his blind spot. He changes lanes and accelerates swiftly, forcing Mercedes' head and body back into her seat. A few minutes of uncomfortable silence later, he says, "I really like you and I doubt there's anything that you could say to me that would make me hate you." Eyes trained on the road ahead he says, "As long as this is real."

"Huh? What does that mean?"

"Let's just say that I'm beginning to think that my life veered from the path it was supposed to take and that everything I think I know is a lie."

Mercedes can feel the slight tremor pass through her body at Sam's words. She thinks, _He has no idea how true that is. _

Glancing quickly at her out of the corner of his eye, he says, "Ever since I ran into you that day in the diner, I have been dogged by this feeling that I messed up somewhere. You know, that none of this is right."

"I feel like that a lot." Having left the city limits behind, Mercedes' eyes are taking in her surroundings as Sam whisks her off to his house, literally located on the other side of the tracks. As she talks, Sam feels himself smiling at the slight wonder he can hear in her voice in direct conflict with the words coming out of her mouth. "I'm always wondering what would have happened if I had told somebody what happened to me." She gasps slightly at the sight of a house that looks like a mansion from some movie. There are horses on the property. Turning her head almost all the way around to stare, she continues with, "Or—or if we hadn't met Puck. I—I figure that me and San would be dea…" Her voice drifts off as Sam turns into his driveway. His house _is_ like a perfect fairytale house. Before she can get over her shock, Sam has exited the car, opened her door, and is now waiting for her with one outstretched hand. She looks at him, and accepts his offer of assistance in getting out. "All of this for just two people?"

"Yeah. Not my first choice, but you know what they say, _Happy wife, happy life._"Mercedes looks at him apologetically. As he unlocks the front door, he adds, "I have learned from experience that that's a load of crap."

…

"Your office is so different from the rest of the house. I was afraid to touch anything out there, but in here…" She shows him what she feels by tracing over the spines of all of his books haphazardly arranged on the bookshelves lining the wall. She gives him a bemused look as she pulls out comic book after comic book, mingled in among the literary greats and not so greats.

Shrugging, Sam says, "Research, inspiration, and entertainment all in one." He is standing close enough to her that she can feel the heat drifting off of his body, warming the back of hers. She leans forward against the bookshelf to put some much needed space between them and to give her some support, just in case he moves closer. "Do you want some water or something? Lunch maybe?" She can hear the smile in his voice when he says the word 'lunch'.

Slowly, Mercedes turns around and presses her back into the bookshelf. "No, I'm not really hungry."

He moves a fraction closer. Peering intently into her eyes, he says, "In truth, me neither." _At least not for food._ When he says the word truth, her eyes look around him, ignoring the double message in his statement, and come to rest on the inconspicuous brown manila folder she placed on his coffee table. Sam follows the path of her stare. After dousing his real desire once again, Sam sighs and backs away. "Or we could talk about whatever it is you need to tell me about my _wife_." He hopes that Mercedes can hear the revulsion in his tone when he says the word _wife._

She hears it alright. She sits down in the middle of the wide, soft, leather couch. After pulling the folder into her lap, she pats the cushion next to her. "It's time."

Sam wants to smile as sits down next to her, the closest he's been yet, but the look on her face holds him in check. "Mercedes, what's going on?"

"Your wife came to see Puck all mad about you finding out about Beth." She looks at his face to try and discern his reaction to the news. She's not sure that he realized that she actually lived with Puck.

"That figures, since he's Beth's father." His tone is calm and even, not giving away any emotion. However, when his eyes flicker to her face for just a moment, Mercedes sees the storm in them. He's hurt, but he knows that he has no right to be.

"Well, somehow she knew that I met you, and…" looking down, then into his eyes, she says, "…she said some things about me. Things that weren't true, you know, the kind of stuff that everyone thinks about girls like me and Santana." Sam folds his hand around hers.

"She was just looking for a target because I tossed her out."

"She also said something about Matt." She pauses, trying to come up with the best way to explain his connection. "He does favors for people and then uses it against them later." Nervous energy is causing her to swirl her thumb on the inside of Sam's hand, unknowingly tickling him with light feathery touches. As she talks the speed of her swirling increases. "He did something for her a few months back."

"What?"

Mercedes closes her eyes. A tear falls from the corner of her eye and lands on his arm with a silent _plop._ She thinks, _I have to do this. I can't fall apart now. He's going to need __my__ shoulder to cry on. _She quickly wipes her eyes with her free hand. She shifts her body so that she is facing Sam, rather than sitting alongside him. After taking her hand from his, she places the folder in his upturned palm. "Before I tell you, I just want to say that I didn't know. I didn't know that your wife was Puck's baby-mama. I didn't know that we were already connected. I didn't know when you told me, what had really happened."

Sam looks down at the folder in his hand and back up into Mercedes' chocolate brown eyes. "Didn't know what? Please just tell me, you're starting to really scare me."

Mercedes takes her hands and places them on either side of his face. His eyes close briefly against her touch, and he nuzzles her with one side of his face and then the other. "I didn't know the truth about Neytiri that day in the diner. But I know the truth now and I think you should know too."

"Wha—"

"Quinn had Matt find a doctor to help her take care of the baby that she wasn't ready to have." She said the words in a rush just to get them out.

It was like a nuclear bomb exploding. Her words landed with a forceful thud, but his brain had to catch up and process. Once his mind pieced together what she said, the mushroom cloud flashed out. Everything drained out of his face, his eyes, and his body. If Mercedes hadn't been holding his head in her hands he would have fallen back off of the couch. But she held him firm, whispering, "You're gonna get through this. I'm right here. Just look at me." She can see his eyes start to glaze over and roll back into his head. She shakes him gently. "Sam! Look at me. I'm not gonna leave." Slowly his eyes regain their focus and as he stares into hers, she can see life creeping back into them, and tears leaking out of them.

After a few moments, he finds his voice, now cracked and strained. "A—are you sure?"

She nods her head slowly. "Matt works at the hospital. He runs the same game on the doctors as he does his friends. They all have secrets, and once he figures them out, he uses it against them. One of the doctors at the hospital is…well I don't know what-all he's doing, but whatever it is he took Quinn in, no questions asked."

Sam slowly drops his gaze to the folder in his lap, for the first time noticing the color coding on the tab, the letters 'EV' and the name Lucille Quinn Fabray-Evans on the label. "Is—is this what I think it is?"

Dropping her hands and sliding them under the folder to support Sam's, Mercedes answers with, "Yeah. I…I haven't looked at it, cuz it's not my place, but I'll be here while you look."

Softly, he says, "I don't think I can look at this alone." He looks up at the same time as Mercedes. More firmly, he says, "If this is really the start of us, then we should do this together. No more secrets."

_No more secrets. _"You're not mad at me?" He tries to smile to make her feel better and instantly she feels bad for being selfish. "Sorry, it's just…sorry."

Sam squeezes her hands beneath the folder. "I get it. And I told you before, this is not going to change the way I feel about you."

… **Into the Pensieve**

"Are you ready?"

Instead of answering, he flips the folder open and slides his body closer into hers so that she could read along with him. As they read, Sam wonders aloud. "If this was done off the books, why is there even a record?"

"Because it's something that Matt could hold over Quinn's head if he needed something."

"He's a right bastard."

Dryly, Mercedes replies, "So is she."

It is what it is, a cold clinical medical record of his wife's secret abortion. It is a portal to his past where he could review events that had happened with fresh tear-filled eyes and new insight. Like dipping his head into the pensieve.

He remembers that day she came home and told him the bad news. Did he think it was strange that she got up so early that morning? _Maybe a little._ She'd said that it was for a huge early bird sale, but now he knows that she spent the morning in the hospital and the afternoon shopping. He knows why she didn't call him to hold her hand when she knew something was wrong. There was never anything wrong, at least not with the pregnancy. She'd lied about needing a new outfit because hers was ruined by blood. There was never any blood, but there was plenty of blood on her hands. That was the only day she'd ever done her retail therapy on her own dime. She had to, because the time on the receipts would have given away the truth. _Truth._

According to the records she'd been thinner than ever, practically starved. Sam knew that she'd had morning sickness almost since day one, but he thinks back on all of the dinners out and brunches around, and he knows that she was doing it on purpose. She had tried in vain for months to miscarry, and it just never worked. Sighing, he now remembers the empty wine bottles from girl's night in. He wonders, _Did she even stop drinking or did she know how it was always going to end? _

They'd never told anyone about the pregnancy because they were told that you really needed to wait until after the first trimester, just in case. _Just in case…_Quinn was more than agreeable to keeping the pregnancy a secret for three months. _No wonder…_He had no one to help him through that hard time. His parents had always been wary of his new wife and his inner joy about the baby had them finally in a positive place regarding his marriage. They thought that Quinn made him happy. He never told them about the miscarriage because he didn't want them to blame her. He tried to protect her by hiding his heartache from his family. She watched him cry alone for weeks and did nothing.

She was always a little cold, a little distant, and a little hard. She did nothing for him. She never made him a single dinner, lunch, or breakfast. She never spent a lot of time with him at the house. All those days he spent shut away completely at a loss for what to do, unsure of how to fix everything; she was never around. He thought that the shopping was her way of coping with the loss, but really it was her way of avoiding him.

Going back even farther he remembers the battle royale over the prenup. It wasn't a big deal to him, but it really rubbed her the wrong way. _She thought it meant that I didn't really love her. But my parents insisted. I've been homeless, had to do some things that I wasn't proud of to help put food on the table._ It was really a way to keep her safe if for some reason there was a legal issue over his business. The prenup established the rules that kept Sam the writer separate from Sam the husband, while ensuring that his wife couldn't be held liable in the event that he lost everything. It actually gave her a way out and set aside money for her in case he really did lose everything, was unable to provide for her, and she chose to divorce him. Quinn was never a 'for richer or poorer' kinda chick. _Crazy right? I set aside a bunch of my money for her, just in case I end up penniless on the street to show her how much I love her. _Financial security was important to Quinn once she found out that he didn't come from money like she did. But Sam was successful and the money he made (and stood to make) far out reached the money set aside for her in the prenup. _Did she ever really love me or was it always about her getting the best deal possible?_

She only wanted to see and be seen. She would get dolled up for a party to celebrate one of his books, but take away the flash of the cameras, the pretty dresses and guys in fancy suits, and top of the pyramid status…there was nothing left. As if he was flipping through a photo album of their life, he can see the false quality. Maybe it's all in his head, maybe it's not. He swears that he can see the pretend smiles paired with aloof and distant eyes. The insincere touches she used to trick him at the beginning into believing that she was really interested in him. He'd been so desperate for attention, struggling with his dyslexia, a rising star thanks to his first book. She used her pretty face and his insecurity to help him navigate the road to the top. From day one she played him, plotting and scheming, toying with his heart all for her gain and apparently his ruin. Sam understands now that that's all he ever really was to her, living breathing social status and money.

Mercedes keeps looking at Sam out of the corner of her eye. He should be really broken up, but he's not. He should be angry or full of rage or devastated, but he's not. He's flipping through the documents in the folder the way he would a draft of his latest manuscript. _Detached._ She is beginning to worry. If things don't come out now, it will be hell to pay later. There's no telling what he's capable of doing once the truth festers and rots away in his soul for a few weeks or months. He's so busy trying to reconcile in his head the truth about his wife and who she really is that he's cut off his heart. Other than a few sniffles and random tears, Sam is amazingly strong as they review the medical file. Mercedes uses the only thing she has to reach him. She takes one of her hands and slowly begins to rub her palm along his spine. At first he jumps, like he had forgotten that she was there. Then he settles into her ministrations. He's not Quinn. There is no way that he will be able to make it 3 days much less 3 months like she did. He will not be able to look himself in the mirror and he certainly won't be able to look at her again. Mercedes continues rubbing his back, pouring comfort into every stroke upwards and love into ever stroke downwards. Sam is not distant, aloof, cold, or hard. Sam wears his heart on his tear stained sleeve.

For him the medical file represents dead weight that he has been dragging around for the last year. It's not about his lost child, but more about his pretend wife. Was all of this his fault because he liked the idea that someone like Quinn seemed perfect for someone like him? _Barbie and Ken…Is this all my fault?_ How had he never seen that she was the unequal partner?

He manages to compartmentalize his thoughts until they reach the last page. It is a half sheet of four sonogram shots. They are folded back to back. Together they look at the first frame. He can see the outline of a face. A huge tear rolls down, falling off of the end of his nose. He tries to blink rapidly and stem the next few tears, but they keep coming. The next shot is focused on a little arm making a fist. Along the back he could make out part of a delicate path that had to be the spine. Mercedes gently wipes the latest tear to fall from the third little frame. Toes. There are toes, tiny miniscule little toes, attached to a tiny minuscule foot, connected to a bent little leg. His first inclination is to smile. He's never had a picture like this before. The only appointment he went to was so early on in the pregnancy that the baby was literally a little fluttering dark spot on a screen. He remembers staring at that screen for ages, unable to believe that eventually that little speck would grow into an entire little baby. Slowly, they unfold the last frame in the sonogram sheet like an accordion. It _is_ a picture of an entire little baby, _his_ entire little baby. He didn't need a fancy medical degree to see that. His heart is caught in his throat, choking him. _Oh my God, how far along was she really_? Above the picture, Sam reads the same line over and over. _Baby girl Evans, baby girl Evans, baby girl Evans._ Mercedes stops rubbing his back and wraps her arm around his waist. She forces him to take his arm and wrap it around her shoulder.

Hushed and quietly it begins, the dignified sobs befitting a man. She takes her free hand and holds the other end of the sonogram. Ever so swiftly he begins weeping openly and loudly. She wraps both arms around him, offering him her shoulder to cry on. At first he welcomes her touch, and then he tries to push her away. Held at arms length she can watch him go through some kind of grudging acceptance, of everything. The past and lost opportunities, the present heartache and new connections, and the future with its murky unknown.

With the truth comes responsibility and ultimately Sam blames himself.

Finally he descends into those cries that clench your chest so hard that you feel like you can't take in a breath, but somehow your body manages to wail and flood your face with tears. There are so many tears. He thought that no one person could shed more tears than he has over this baby. Mercedes cries, but only because it hurts her heart to see him like this. He pushes the file off of his lap and back onto the table. Then, without any warning at all he pulls her into a fierce hug. Over his shoulder Mercedes clenches her teeth against the almost pain of his arms wrapped around her tighter than anyone has ever held her before in her life. Sam wants to be as close as possible to the only person he has left that can give him hope. Mercedes figures that if hugging her to death was the only way to make him feel better, then so be it. She can feel the pads of his fingers digging into her back, pressing her. She can feel his face, the bridge of his nose, the spread of his forehead, the soft swell of his lips against her neck and shoulder. She can feel his arms flexing, pulling her almost onto his lap. He's squeezing so hard that she can't really breathe all that well.

And then she feels a switch flip, and air floods her lungs.

Like tumblers turning the lock on a safe, once everything clicked into place, a great door swings open inside of him and invites her in. _Click…._He's cried for his child. _Click…_he's cried for his lost marriage. _Click…_and he's cried for himself. _Click…_Quinn is gone and he will never let her come back. _Click…_Mercedes is here and he doesn't want her to ever leave. _Click…_She will make it stop hurting. _Click…_Mercedes will make him feel better. _Click…_Mercedes brings hope, smiles, and laughter.

He needs hope. He needs to smile again. He needs to laugh again. In the last three months, she is the only person that has given him hope, she is the only person who has made him smile, and she is the only person who has made him laugh.

_Click…_He needs to love again. (But he does love. Sam loves his family, the few friends he still has, his job…) _Click…_He deserves to love someone who will love him back.

Is he ready to love like that again? _Click…_The decision is already made.

Stupid brain, stop thinking. It's time for the heart to take over. _This is the start of us, remember?_

Sam stops crying. He relaxes his hold on her, but keeps his arms around her. He keeps his face pressed into the side of her neck. His breathing normalizes. He pulls her ever so slowly onto his lap. Her hands are folded in her lap. She can feel his eyelashes lightly brushing against her skin as he blinks. She can feel his warm breath blowing across her skin, drying the tears. His breathing begins to pick up speed again. She looks towards the window, and sees the setting sun. They've been together, holding each other, comforting each other, for hours.

Against her ear he whispers, "Thank you." Silently he runs his fingers lightly up her arm, the tips disappearing under her sleeve, rounding her shoulder before they retrace their path back down. "Thank you for telling me the truth." His left arm at her back begins to run up and down her spine, as hers had for him earlier. She is caught in a slow sliding rhythm between his hands. "For seeing me through this." His hand dips lower causing his thumb to catch on the edge of her jeans before sliding around to cup her hip. "For being my friend." His right hand moves from her arm to her knee, his fingers tracing small looping circles along the side of her leg before meeting with the hand resting on her hip. "For caring." To keep himself from doing any more he laces the fingers of his hands together, trapping them both.

Sinking into his hold and looking straight ahead, in a small voice Mercedes asks, "Are you feeling better?"

With his head still nestled at her neck he answers honestly. "Yes and no. Yes, I'm done crying, but no I'm not ready to let you go." Sam lets the silence hang between them, hoping that Mercedes can hear what he is saying behind what he's actually said. "I still need you."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Against her ear he says, "Stay."

As if he was asking, she answers, "Yes."

Unable to say what he's feeling, but knowing that he means more, he says again, "Please stay."

She understands, she's always understood. "Yes."

"It still hurts."

Quietly she says, "It will always hurt."

"But I can live with it."

Half smiling, she says, "I know you can."

He blows another hot breath across the skin of her neck. He can feel her shudder slightly in his arms. "Are you okay with this?"

"Yes." He is still nestled against her neck and she is still talking out into the room.

She's afraid to look into his green eyes. She knows what lies behind them will overtake her and pull her under, and that she would let it. She would let him.

He is afraid to look her in the eyes. What he feels coursing through his veins is easily one of the most intense feelings that he's ever had. If he looks it will overtake him, and in turn, he will overtake her. But would she let him?

Cautiously, he asks, "Is this wrong?"

After the barest moment of hesitation, she answers firmly. "No."

Hearing the unsaid, he asks, "Not yet?"

He watches as her chest rises and falls rapidly. Agreeing with him, she says, "Not yet."

"Stay."

"I will."

"She's not coming back, I won't let her." Sam's voice is full of certainty.

"I know."

Slowly she turns to look at him. It takes him a moment, but eventually he lifts his eyes to meet hers. Mercedes feels the pull of those green oceans and begins to dip her head towards him, eyes already half closed. His eyes close seconds after hers, but he doesn't meet her halfway. Instead he stops just before their lips meet. "I want you."

Pulling back, her eyes flutter open. He still has his eyes closed, afraid again to look. "I want you too, but…" A loose smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He opens his eyes.

"Until Neytiri I didn't know you could love another person without meeting them." Mercedes doesn't know what to say. Ever so softly he says, "You know I love you, right?" All she can do is nod her head. Pressing his forehead into her lips, he vows, "I am going to fix this." She nods again. Pulling back, he admits, "It still hurts."

Smoothly she runs one of her hands along the top of his forehead, down the side of his face. With her fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, she says, "I know."

"Make it stop." He says it as a statement, but he's really asking. He wishes that he hadn't, but he's been torn open and laid bare. Everything that was buried or denied has been dredged up and brought to the surface. Everything is mingling together. All of the pain, the love, the hope, the fear, the lust, the regret; all of the feelings are jostling for prominence and rather than choosing one, he chooses them all. He shouldn't have said it, forcing her hand, but he's in no position to stop himself.

Mercedes answers without any hesitation whatsoever. "Okay." She turns in his lap, and lies down along the length of the couch. He is left sitting up, looking in disbelief at her legs draped across his thighs. Mercedes lifts one of her hands and winds it into the fabric of his shirt, tugging him down beside her.

Sam is pretty sure that she was right when she said that he'd knocked down all of her walls. After everything that she's been through, there is no resistance. Still propped on his side by his extended arm, he asks, stunned, "You would, even if it was…_wrong_?"

"Yes." For the first time in a long time, this doesn't really feel wrong. Mercedes doesn't feel like the walking dead. She feels alive. On the one hand, it makes her sad to know that he had to endure such a loss that by some twist of fate has brought color into her life, but on the other hand, they have each other. Sure, she wishes that he wasn't married, but perfect is something for the movies. This is real life, and with real life comes real pain, real loss, real heartache, and real comfort. Maybe it's not a fairytale ending, but it beats being alone. Sam loves her and that has to count for something. For her it counts for almost everything.

"For me?"

Simply, she answers, "Yes."

He may not have known her long, but he knows her. This isn't a decision she takes lightly, and yet… "Why?"

Running her thumb along his jaw line, she smiles, a full sweet smile. "Because I love you too."

He slides down alongside her, one hand and elbow propping up his head, while his other found her hand. "Is it wrong?"

Shrugging, she says, "Maybe yes, maybe no."

He tries to read her eyes, to discern if there is any real conflict in them. He finds nothing but lovely amber pools. He thinks that she deserves more than this. He doesn't want her settling after everything is said and done. "Is this real?"

Thinking back to what he'd said before about his life being a lie, she smiles reassuringly at him. She slides in closer to assure him with her physical touch. "Yes."

Sam slides his arm behind her head. With his lips against her ear, he asks, "Then will you wait for me?"

"Yes." She's freed his other hand, releasing it from her grip, essentially giving him a nonverbal cue to move things forward. She rests one of her hands above her head, while her other is on his shoulder. His free hand starts to play with the hem of her shirt.

She steals a look at him out of the corner of her eye. Sam molds his body along her side and wraps his arm around her waist, gently rolling her on top of him. With him now lying flat on his back, she slides down and lays her head over his heart, tucking one arm up along his shoulder and the other across his chest. Once they are comfortably cuddled, he kisses the top of her head. "Then I can wait for you."

Relief makes Mercedes sleepy and while he watches a dreamy grin spread across her face, Sam realizes that he is exhausted as well.

When he wakes up just a few hours later, Mercedes has left. He vaguely remembers her saying something about an emergency 911 text from Santana. The comforting warm spot she occupied on top of him on the couch is already cold. The blanket she had covered him with pales in comparison.

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><p><strong>Part Three: Sometimes They Come Back<strong>

…**Dr. Feelgood, your neighborhood prescription drug source, and purveyor of all things secret**

_Brrr….brrrr….brrrr…._

"Mercedes Jones, what can I do for you?"

"Don't act like a smart-ass Matt. You know what I want and you also know that you owe me."

"I was wondering how long it would take you to make the connection. Quinn's a piece of work isn't she?"

"She actually reminds me a lot of you."

"Whatever. Today is your lucky day. I'm at work, so you can come by and get the file anytime."

"I'll take the bus so I'll be there in about 30."

"Pleasure doing business with you."

"Trust me, the pleasure is all yours."

…**Scarface and PrettyBoy (or the story of how Puck and Matt became brothers)**

Matt Rutherford grew up in a ratty little house located at 122 Oliver Parker Boulevard. Noah Puckerman grew up in a ratty little house located at 124 Oliver Parker Boulevard. Even then Puck was a little bully in training, but you had to work to get on his bad side. He mostly ran his little hood on fear, intimidation, and a greatly exaggerated bravado. Being the biggest seven year old by a full head and mini-mohawk didn't hurt either. Matt was essentially afraid of his own shadow. And of his father, he was definitely afraid of his own father. For sure one day that old drunk would be the death of him.

He was a curious lad, and sometimes it got him into big trouble. So maybe he accidentally mixed some stuff from his chemistry set with some stuff he found under the kitchen sink. After all, the bomb squad had cleared his house, the police had let his dad out of jail for the big misunderstanding, and the doctor said that all of the scars on his face from the glass container exploding would heal away to nothing. Matt thinks that's when his dad's drinking really got out of hand. And that's also when the kids started calling him Scarface. That's when they noticed him all of a sudden and would thrust their fists into his face saying, 'say hello to my little friend'. Even after his face healed the nickname stuck. Puck never hit him, but he never cared enough to stop other people from hitting him either. He just listened to him cry. He heard him cry at the bus stop in the morning, on the way to school, all day at school, all the way home on the bus. Eventually all of that crying would pay off.

Somehow fate conspired to make the mousy quiet boy who secretly liked to dance to Michael Jackson in his room become best friends with the boy who only played bad on the outside.

One thing of note regarding ratty little houses on Oliver Parker Boulevard in Lima Heights is that they had paper thin walls. Every night Puck would lie in bed and listen to Matt cry. One night he had enough. Matt thought it was aliens come to snatch him away, but it was just Puck. The second thing of note regarding ratty little houses on Oliver Parker Boulevard is that the ones with aligning bedrooms were so close that you could climb from one window, to a fence, into the opposite window without touching the ground. Once in his room, Puck shoved a twinkie in his face and told him that crying was for girls, and unless Matt was planning on growing a va-jay-jay, he need to man up and grow a pair. Regarding girls and all things va-jay-jay Matt was clueless. He thought Puck was the kind of kid he'd always wanted to be. Puck explained it to him clearly. Matt was ruining his beauty sleep, and if he didn't look good, he couldn't get free snacks from the girls at school or find one of the less pretty ones to do his homework. (He's seven. His avoidance of math started early). Matt thought that Puck was going to keep him. Puck wasn't in the business of collecting strays, yet. But Puck did tell him something. He told him to ditch school the next day, and that he was going to show Matt something that would change his life forever. Matt went back to his room, but didn't sleep a wink. He spent the entire night wondering if he'd just made his first friend.

The next day they met behind a big oak tree in the park behind the school. Puck took him to a house that he had never been to before. He had a Polaroid camera. He took him up to a window and told him to look in. The house belonged to the sister of a very important man (that man would be the mayor, in case you were wondering). Just who do you think is inside the mayor's sister's house? Why Matt's father, the repair man of course. And, no he's not checking the pipes of the house; and no, he's not even checking the pipes of the mayor's sister. He's checking the pipes of the mayor himself. Puck has already perfected his trademark eyebrow wiggle as he snaps a few photos with the camera. How did he know? Well as fate would have it, Puck learned how to mack on the Desperate Housewives of Lima by watching this grumpy old drunk repair man that always seemed to be working at the places where his mom cleaned houses. Small world, go figure. Puck left an envelope labeled 'we have more' with one of the more interesting photos inside. Not surprisingly, Old Man Rutherford "left town" shortly thereafter, leaving behind his common law wife and only son.

Unknowingly, Puck had shown Matt the golden path. The path lined with secrets.

When Matt was with Puck he noticed something. Nobody bothered him. He didn't get shoved, teased, or accidentally dunked into an empty (or not so empty toilet). Nobody ignored him when he spoke. The more they hung out, the longer the Puck-luck as he called it lasted. It got to the point where he didn't even need for Puck to be there so close was their association. Now if you believe that Noah Puckerman magically became besties with Matt Rutherford after his dad left, then you need to stop eating those magic brownies that you got from Brittany S. Pierce. The unicorns ain't coming. It really was all about beauty sleep for Puck (and he can't sleep and listen to a little boy cry.)

Something else happened that tied Matt and Puck together forever.

Noah Puckerman had a secret, and one day Matt Rutherford found out. It's not what you think. As it turns out, Puck is deathly allergic to shellfish. Generally the whole 'I'm Jewish and I have a note' thing kept him safe, but Matt's mom didn't know that Noah Puckerman was Jewish. When she invited her son's only friend over for her special broccoli surprise dinner, she didn't expect him to keel over at the dinner table. The 'surprise' is that her old drunk of a husband hated broccoli but loved oysters. She just never got around to changing the name of the dish. Luckily Matt somehow understood that Puck was reaching for something in his pocket. That epi-pen saved the day. From that point on Matt you-saved-my-fucking-life Rutherford was forever know as Noah Puckerman's brother from another mother. Dorks, losers, low-lifes, pretty, and not-so-pretty girls were put on notice.

Without being beaten senseless on a daily basis, Matt Rutherford grew into a rather smart kid, up to no good, since he was now best friends with a certified badass in training. Both Matt and Puck could read people quickly, and generally they could spot a liar in a millisecond. (I know what you are thinking here dear reader, but love has a way of making us blind to the obvious. And in his own way, Puck loved Matt.)

Matt knew which kids would give up their lunch money and do their homework. He knew which teachers filled their thermos' with hot toddy, which ones were too interested in the little boys or the little girls, and as they got older, which ones were too helpful after school. Puck kept them safe and acquired funds, while Matt identified who needed to be beaten, who would fall into line, and who they could hustle, from the principal to the janitor to the kid sitting next to them at study hall. Everyone was useful for something, and it was his job to figure out what. Puck was much better at non-confrontational persuasion, and he always tried to charm before he resorted to his fists. No one dared call him Scarface to his face, but even when Puck was around Matt could see what people really thought of him. He was nothing without Puck and everyone knew it. But Puck didn't care, and Matt became his right hand.

Matt's psychological scars made him antisocial and cling to the background, while Puckerman used his quick wit and outrageous good looks to avoid homework, get 'extra' help with assignments, and to get by in general. The way he worked it, it was as if the Greek goddess of lust Aphrodite herself blessed him at birth, making him nearly irresistible to men and women alike. It should be no surprise to know that both boys were smart, and could have done just fine had they really applied themselves to their studies; they just preferred to apply their intelligence to other things. (In truth, Matt was a perfect student; Puck was the one who got by on his looks and his ever willing man-parts).

Senior year in high school they were setting themselves up a pretty lucrative enterprise and things were going swimmingly…until they got caught.

…**Taking One for the Team**

It's not really important to know what they were up to, just that it was illegal. Puck figured that Matt saved his life, so he owed him. He never really thought that he was going away to jail. It was easy for him to push Matt out of the window ahead of him, knowing all along that he didn't have enough time to follow.

So, Matt got away, got to go to school, and got his chance to get out of the neighborhood.

Puck got caught and was going to jail (to do real time), but he played every charm card he had and at the last second was tried as a juvenile and given a deal in exchange. If the deal is violated before he turns 21, then he will do the time originally awarded as an adult. That is how Puck came to spend a little time in juvie. That is how Puck got hooked up with a real pimp that taught him how to collect lost women and use them for money. That is why Puck meets with Mr. Figgins to talk and pee in a cup twice a month. That is why Puck has to go to the youth center with Mr. Figgins twice a month for community service. The judge was charmed yes, but she also could tell that Puck had potential and she was going to give him a chance to get it right.

Matt Rutherford on the other hand would never get it right, but by the time he figures that out, he'll be dead.

* * *

><p><strong>End Notes:<strong>

Hahahaha, Quinn who? Did you see what I did there?

Both the Pensieve & Veritaserum are from Harry Potter.

Sam is Superman or something like that. I don't care what you try and tell me. I write it, therefore it be. Thanks again to Emz for starting that with me (40 days of Summer!ref) and to DreaC for giving her Sam 'Clark' for a middle name. And then I suppose I should thank the show for actually using John Schneider (AKA Mr. Kent from Smallville) as Sam's dad in cannon, even though I still call him Bo Duke too! See, it's true.

Pardon me while I avoid having to write real smut like a boss. Y'all know that my smut writing skills are super shady anyway. Dammit people, after the blood (and there are still a lot more characters to kill off), there will be a fairytale ending. (Which may contain… ;)

I don't like it when Sam and Mercedes cry. (… no me gusta 'Heart' either). I was going to have her go home and talk to Puck too, but I just couldn't do it. She'll tell him in **CH 7:** **Clean House**. And, as if the title wasn't clear enough, the time has come for Sam to clean house. I cannot keep him with Quinn any longer, and I'm surprised that I managed to drag it out over 6 chapters.

Y'all it's about to get _good_. Like Angela Bassett 'Waiting to Exhale' set your shit on fire good.

Don't forget to send me some more must-use words and phrases. I will use them, pinky-promise.

Thanks for reading and I hope that you liked it!


	8. CH 7: Clean House

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, tis a shame, but tis true.**

**CH 7: Clean House**

**Dear Readers: Thanks again for all of the alerts, favorites, and reviews. A special thank you to all of those anons or not so anon but unlogged in, who are also following this story and take the time to review. It really means a lot (and some of y'all are crazy). The last chapter was hard, but necessary. This one is a bit easier to swallow (unless you are talking about Santana…). This update is long. Like Ch 3 long. Sorry, for just a bunch of stuff in this one. Remember warnings are in CH ½.**

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><p><strong>Introduction: There are those who have been given everything, and all they do is plot take more. There are those who have earned more than they need, and they are only looking for someone to share it with. There are those who have lost everything, and oddly enough they are the ones who find it easy to give more. The time has come to begin to address this imbalance, or has it...<strong>

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><p><strong>Part One: Show Me the Money<strong>

Santana and Brittany arrive home with take out from the diner and realized that the apartment has been tossed. Brittany stands in the doorway speechless while Santana starts to unravel.

"What the? No, NO, no, no, no….please tell me he didn't…" Santana drops the take-out containers on the kitchen counter with a loud thud, not caring if they landed right side up or not. "This is just some utter fuckery."

Closing the door slowly and frowning as she looks around, Brittany asks, "What happened in here?"

"That fucking pig." Santana wrings her hands in the air as if she's strangling an invisible target.

With just a trace of a smile on her face, Brittany thinks, _Note to self: Santana has a temper to match her inner passion._ Figuring that she wouldn't be too happy to have her place ransacked either, Brittany asks, "Who's that, the pig? I mean, you don't actually have a pig for a pet, like that actor, do you?" Santana does a slow blink in Brittany's direction, her mouth falling open. Nervously, Brittany adds, "But I heard that his pig…ummmm, died…" She looks at Santana, hoping for the best.

Santana purses her lips, taking a moment to think about her answer. She didn't want to hurt Brittany's feelings. "No sweetie, we don't have any pets. By 'pig' I mean cop. By 'fucking pig' I mean Finn Hudson that crooked ass cop." Brittany nods her head in understanding.

Santana remembers the last time this happened. Their money was taken. It didn't matter where they hid it. Finn always found it. "Shit, shit, shit. Esi's tuition is due in like one week." Santana runs into her shared bedroom, and returns moments later, empty handed. In a quiet voice, one that sounds already defeated rather than pissed off, she says, "It takes me months to raise that kind of cash." She is standing there looking at Brittany shaking her head. "Where am I gonna get 15 grand in one week? I'd have to suck off every single one of those tweed coat wearing bastards for them to keep her."

Taking her new relationship in stride, knowing from the start that nothing about Santana or her life was conventional, Brittany simply approaches Santana and slowly takes her hand. She knows this is a story that is bound to come out, and she's okay with being the only person there to hear it. That is, as long as Santana doesn't mind sharing it with her.

Santana feels the pressure of Brittany's fingers on hers. _Am I really about to do this? I guess if she's still around by the time I'm done, it's a sign that this might be it. Why the fuck not? _She thinks about Mercedes' retelling of her epic lunch date with Sam. Questioning phrases like 'soul mate?' and 'meant to be?' float to the forefront of her brain. Santana's never done drugs before, but she's spent enough time with Sugar to know how it feels. Mercedes told her that's how she felt the moment Sam first touched her; like she was high on love and it just got harder and harder to fight the longer they were together. The feeling was overwhelming, and confusing, and exciting. But it was how she still felt after that lunch, away from Sam that really threw Mercedes for a loop. Unlike one of Sugar's highs, this feeling for Sam lingered, smoldered, flared, and grew even while they were apart.

Looking down at Brittany's long delicate, but strong fingers, Santana can admit that it's how she's felt ever since Brittany traced the infinity symbol on her arm in the diner. It's how Santana's felt every time they talked since then, just… _Was it really only a few days ago?_

The girls could fight it, but why? Who has the right to tell them that they didn't deserve a chance?

Quietly huddled under the blanket while Puck and Sugar snored away, both Santana and Mercedes could admit that maybe, just maybe they believed in love; real true love. After meeting Brittany in the diner, Santana knew what it meant to have someone literally light up her life, to feel her heart skip a beat when someone whispered in her ear, and to feel lightheaded at her touch. She hadn't even done anything with Brittany other than some kissing, but that was enough. First Mercedes and now her; apparently Santana Lopez believed in fairytales too.

It's hard not to want to reach out and hold onto the light when everything else is so gray and dark. Sam brought the light for Mercedes. Selfishly, Santana can't help but think, _That's why she isn't there for me._ Just as quickly she squashes the thought as she silently asks Brittany with a wary look if she's really ready for this, for her. When Santana looks into her eyes, all Brittany can do is smile. It's a small smile, because the ominous note hanging in the air between them isn't lost on the generally cheerful blonde who often finds herself a little lost. But that smile is full of light too. And that light isn't lost on the feisty Latina facing yet another trial in her short life.

Santana begins taking in full deep breaths. Slowly the panic recedes and the story, her story, begins to spill out. "Me and Mercedes had just turned 18 when we had to lock my mama in the…in the crazy house." Santana looks uncertainly at Brittany, whose face doesn't change with the revelation. Letting out a breath, Santana continues. "Esi was only three years younger than me, but she was so smart that she graduated early, with us."

In awe, Brittany exclaims, "Wow, that's smart. I'm not anywhere near that smart." Her face drops a bit as she asks, "Is that okay?"

"That's okay, it takes all kinds. And I think you're smart about lots of stuff." Giving Brittany's hand an extra squeeze, Santana says, "Anyway, she really wanted to go to this Ivy League school upstate. They wouldn't let her in early without an interview with her parents or in her case a guardian. We still had some money then, so we rented this nice car and made a real trip of it. The thing about my sister is that she was always a little sheltered. Even in Lima Heights Adjacent, she spent so much time with her nose in a book, or at the library, or going places for gifted kids in one of her ten nerd clubs. She just doesn't understand how the world works sometimes."

Santana's expression darkens as she thinks back to the day of the interview. "In front of Esi and Cedes the admissions guy was all smiles, but once they left to tour the campus, it all changed."

_***oOo gross…flashback timessssss oOo***_

The look that the man, who could have been her great grandfather, levels at her makes her bright smile falter. He slowly takes off his wire rimmed spectacles, and cleans the lenses fastidiously with a pocket handkerchief. Wiping his nose with the kerchief before tucking it away again, Mr. Munch places both leather patched elbows on the edge of his desk. Clearing his throat, he croaks out, "Lima Heights Adjacent?"

Santana does a slow blink. She is shaking her head. "No. You can't do this. Esi is just as good as everyone else here. She earned it."

Huffing, Mr. Munch, sneers, "This has nothing to do with what she's earned. She's _earned_ nothing. You know how many doctors were born and raised in Lime Heights Adjacent? How many judges? How many architects? Politicians or world leaders? I can probably count them all on one hand." He pretends to count out a silent list, but in the end only one of his fingers is still standing. Yes, that finger.

Santana stammers, "Our dad was a doctor back in…"

"Some foreign country where his degree counted for nothing in America?" His tone is condescending and crushing.

Santana rapidly blinks away her tears. This man would never show her pity. Her father left them when she was barely young enough to remember because he was never able to overcome the language barrier to earn a medical degree in America. Her mama blamed herself. If she hadn't begged daddy to sell his practice back home and join her in America, he'd still be with them, she wouldn't have gone mad, and they would have enough money to choke this old bastard.

"Ms. Lopez, really, you didn't think that we were going to let your sister attend school here did you? There's a reason that we don't have any need based scholarships here. We don't want any needy students."

Thinking quickly, Santana counters with, "But she could get one of those academic scholarships because she's so smart."

"True, but really those go to the privileged children of our biggest benefactors." Again with that look. The one that told her that nothing she could say is going to change his mind.

Santana's mouth falls open. _This is cray. _"Let me get this straight. You'd rather give money away to some inbred rich kid than to someone who deserves it?"

Mr. Munch continues speaking as if he doesn't hear her. "Besides, there's the question of race. Long gone are the days when we can afford to be so outwardly picky about what our students look like." He's smiling at her like he's just made some kind of joke. "Of course, with the economy the way it is, money is still green; the rest of the colors don't really matter." Chuckling, he says, "However you don't have _any_ money so I cannot let some Mexican girl from the ghetto sully our school's reputation."

"We're _not_ Mexican. We'r—"

"Doesn't matter."

Santana's hand slowly reaches for her hair…blade, but she purses her lip and thinks better of it. Cutting this man would make her happy, but it would probably get her thrown into jail, and then they'd never get Esi in. "What do I have to do?"

"I beg your pardon?" Now Mr. Munch is laughing as if Santana's just made a joke. "There isn't anything that you can do that would convince me that your sister would be a good fit for this institution."

Pouring every ounce of heat that she can into her gaze, Santana stands and walks seductively over to the front of the desk, dragging her painted nails along the edge. "There's always something." Leaning down, she asks casually, "All I have to do is convince you right?"

Mr. Munch still doesn't quite get it. He's old and looks a lot like Elmer Fudd in a tweed blazer. Things like this just didn't happen to him. He's heard stories, rumors, urban legends of depravity and desperation, but….Sitting up straighter in his seat, he says slowly, "True, the final decision for admittance lies with me, but there is hardly anything you could offer me that I don't already possess."

The bell tower can be heard ringing the distance, chiming the hour. Both of their eyes are drawn momentarily towards the window.

Standing up straight again, Santana walks over to the side of the wide oak desk where the older man is seated. She punctuates each chime of the big bell with a movement. Step, step, step. On the fourth chime she uses one of her hands to push him back into his high backed leather wing chair. On the fifth and sixth chimes she undoes her ponytail and sends her long locks cascading over her shoulder flirtaceously. "_Hardly anything_ means that there's something you want, and I have a pretty good guess what that could be."

A creepy, broken, and yellowing smile spreads across his face. "Well I suppose that you're right. I'm old, not dead."

Santana thinks, _That could be arranged _as she watches his mottled pink tongue dart around his mouth, moistening his lips.

Mr. Munch takes a bent finger and clumsily runs out a long strand of her hair, bringing it to his nose for a ragged sniff. "How much do you love your sister, Ms. Lopez." Santana doesn't answer. On the twelfth and final chiming toll she rolls down her tube top and picks an ugly spot on the wall to stare at while she tries to shut out the rough caresses, light tugs, and eventual loud slurping licks on her breasts. She imagines that the old pompous dude in the painting is mocking her with his upturned nose.

_I am not a whore. This is for my sister. I love her more than anything. Better me than her. Better me than her. Better me than her. _The only thing that keeps her from taking one of her knives and losing it in his ear is the look she will see on Esi's face when she get's that fucking scholarship. After a few minutes it stops. "Let's retire to the couch, so you can earn the rest of that scholarship money."

All Santana can think is that giving a blow job to the oldest, fugliest, crinkliest dick she's ever seen is like trying to get a grip on a stretched out water balloon full of mud, grass, and…and soft soggy bread. It was almost impossible. When she is done, he looks like he's about to have a myocardial infarction. He actually has to rush to take some kind of medicine from his desk, as he stands there with his wrinkly mess dangling. Santana smoothly fixes her top.

Shoving his extra deflated bits and pieces back into his pants, he stammers, "Half. You could have done…" he motions with his hand, unable to say the necessary words, "…_it_, but since you didn't, then you've earned only half a Merit scholarship. You will have to come up with the rest just like everybody else."

She rolls her eyes thinking, _If I had done it you would have died. And that kinda shit can scar a girl for life. _Returning to her seat on the opposite side of the desk, she asks, "How much is that, half?"

"Around 15 thousand a semester."

Somehow Santana manages to keep the shock from showing. Full of false confidence, she says, "Fine; deal, but I want proof that you're going to let her in." She watches as he notarizes all of the necessary forms. Just as he's signing the last paper, Esi and Mercedes return.

He smiles at Esi brightly, as if he didn't just use her sister like an old tube sock full of lotion. "Congratulations, Ms. Lopez, welcome to BSHU." Mr. Munch calls in his secretary to file the paperwork and when she enters, she gives Esi a welcome pack.

Santana only tells Mercedes what happened after Esi left for the Summer Immersion program. She'd earned that for letting the grumpy old man feel her up. It was only when it was just she and Mercedes that she finally cried.

_***oOo You can open your eyes now, the flashback is over oOo***_

"I'm not a…not a whore. I may live with a pimp, but I'm not a hoe." Santana is shaking her head with enough force to swing her high ponytail around her shoulders.

Taking her hand, Brittany smiles softly and says, "I know. It wouldn't matter to me if you were. You did what you had to do for your sister. Even _I _can understand that."

"It's just important to me that you get that. If this is…is going to work." She wonders, _Why is there never time to do things right? Why is it always like this, a scramble? There's never any time to think, barely enough room to breathe._ "Is there even something to work on?"

"I thought we started that night in the diner. I mean, that's what Mama C-Chang said, right?"

Santana laughs to herself at Brittany's flawless logic. "That's right, and she's one woman that even I don't argue with." It's hard to keep the mood light because suddenly realizing that she had a girlfriend didn't change the fact that Finn had stolen Esi's tuition money. They had a week to raise 15 thousand dollars.

Puck walks in, fresh from his interrogation with Detective Sylvester. Rushing over to him, Santana asks, "What happened?"

Puck wastes no time bringing them up to speed. "Got my name from Mercy's new friend Sam. It's not his fault though; Q would have given me up anyway. Basically they thought I shot Shelby and took Beth. They came _here_ looking for signs of a baby and a gun and found neither." Thinking about how close he came to really getting into trouble, he runs his hands through his mohawk. But he knows what else has happened without anybody telling him. "Sorry Santana, Finn and that Asian guy were the ones who searched the place."

"This is a family emergency. First you get hauled off to jail and then we get robbed by a cop. We have to call Mercedes." Santana pulls out her phone. "She'll know what to do. She always knows what to do."

"No!" Taken aback by the force in his tone, Santana gives Puck her stank face. Softening a bit, he says, "It's just that she's with Sam and we can afford to give her a few hours."

Santana squares off in front of him, her finger hovering above the screen on her phone, still threatening to push 'call'. "This is more important that whatever she's doing with him. We always come first."

Very carefully Puck approaches Santana. Never taking his hazel eyes off of hers, he loosens her fingers one by one from their death grip on the cell. "Baby, you know that's true, but at the same time you know just like I do that it ain't."

Santana looks from Brittany to Puck and back to Brittany again. She wants to cry, but she is Santana Lopez and she's made of tougher stuff. She can't help but wonder how much of her crap Brittany will take before she sees that she's made a mistake. Before she can come up with an answer, Puck wraps an arm around her shoulders.

"Look Santana, I'm pretty sure she went to tell him something that no one really wants to know, something every bit as bad as what's going on now. Maybe even worse, since it can't really be fixed. This…" Puck motions for Brittany to help him support Santana. "THIS, we can fix. We have a week to get the cash."

Softly Brittany says, "I know things look so bad right now, but I can't help but think that this week will change our lives forever. Already it's been one of the best weeks of my life. Lord Tubbington is really responding to his acupuncture therapy and has lost 3 whole pounds, I have a great new job, and…" shrugging, she adds, "I found love." Hearing Brittany, that infinitely happy little loopy rainbow, shocks Santana out of her darkest of thoughts.

All Puck can think is that the new girl is _special_ on many levels. "She'll be back tonight, I think." He looks off, thinking about the last time he talked with Mercedes. He's not really sure if he's ready for her to _not_ come back. Judging by the look on Santana's face neither is she. Puck nods his head almost imperceptibly, answering the unasked question.

Santana starts to shiver faintly. This is the first time that she can't call Mercedes. Mercedes has always been her rock when everything else fell away. She was always there to keep her from really killing someone or doing something else in the heat of the moment. Brittany reaches out her hand and begins to rub it along Santana's shoulders. With each rhythmic pass of her hand Santana calms more and more.

Scratching at an itch on the side of his face that isn't really there, Puck says, "Come with me. I have girls with cash that I can take for you. They ain't gonna be happy about it, but they'll understand. At the end of the day they're just hoes…my hoes."

_They're just hoes…_For just a moment Santana's heart breaks for Puck. He's never been one of those kinds of pimps. The ones that take so much that you were left with just barely enough to make it to the next day. The ones that hurt you just as much as they kept others from hurting you. The ones that never saw the girls as people, just…hoes, just…profit. "I'm sorry Puck."

"Yeah, so am I." With a sad look he extends his hand saying, "So, you must be Brittany."

…Much later that night

After spending all day looking for money they had managed to cobble together a few thousand dollars. Most of that was money that Puck collected from his girls and from his secret stash. Wearily looking at Santana, Puck relents and tells her to text Mercedes. "Why can't I just call her?"

"I guess I don't want you to interrupt her."

Santana stops walking and grabs Puck's arm. "You actually think she's doing something that we could interrupt?"

Shrugging, he answers with, "Maybe. I…I don't really want to think about what she might be doing…with…with Sam. All I know is that it's almost 3am. She's never stayed out this late by herself."

" 'Cept she's not by herself, is she?" They lock eyes, and wordlessly Santana sends a text to Mercedes.

…

Mercedes slowly stirs awake, feeling her phone vibrate in her back pocket. She is fighting to stay asleep, stay in the most wonderful dream that she's had in a very long time. Feeling the phone again, her eyes fly wide open and are just able to make out her surroundings in the almost nonexistent pre-dawn light. Instantly she knows that she's not in the apartment. _Funny, already it's 'the apartment'. Just yesterday it was home, but now it's the apartment. _Corny as it sounds, home is where the heart is, and although she hasn't even given him a proper kiss, Mercedes has already given Sam her heart.

Feeling the vibrant life of the person sharing the wide leather couch with her, she knows that she's not with Puck. And she knows that there is no Santana at her back. There is no pillow hiding her knife. There is no reason to have a knife here. Inhaling deeply, with her nose pressed into the thin fabric of the Superman t-shirt, she can smell a bright fresh smelling soap mingled with her light perfume. A small smile dimples her cheek. _Sam._ She can't move, but not a lick of fear does she feel. She feels the firm delicious weight of one of Sam's muscled arms wrapped around her back. She hears the reassuring thump-lump of his steady heartbeat in her ear where her head is laying on his chest. She feels the gentle but secure grasp of his other arm, wrapped around her waist, but trailing long fingers down around the curve of her backside. She feels something else too, innocently pressing into the front of her thighs. Turning this over in her mind, for the first time in her life, Mercedes Jones swoons…just a tiny bit. Letting the new feeling wash over her she can feel unbidden a trickling flurry of heat rush down her chest ending in a swirling, sparkling pool well below her stomach. "Mmmmmm…." A low soft moan escapes her lips, causing Sam to tighten his hold. Very slowly she creeps up into a low push up over Sam's chest. Their bodies are still touching at her waist and his arms are still around her. If he had been awake then there would be no way that she could stop herself from tasting him. Of course, he is asleep and his mouth looks so inviting, and if she just…Sliding back down, laying her head on his chest again, Mercedes Jones swoons for the second time…and this one curls her toes with an electric current. Sleepily she covers her face, hot with embarrassment at her stolen kiss, chuckling softly to herself. Slowly she drags her nose lightly across the top of the 'S' on his shirt, his scent in her nose and still lingering on her lips making her all tingly.

Mercedes' lids grow heavy as the afterglow sweeps through her. She's ready to drift back into a very pleasant dream filled sleep, lulled by Sam's even breath tickling the hairs on her head, but her stupid back pocket vibrates again. Mercedes swears that it physically hurt to separate from Sam. Even after she leaves his warm embrace to sit up on the edge of the couch, he turns in his sleep to spoon her with his body. She checks her text and quickly texts back that she's on her way. She looks at Sam's face, which is smooth and serene, having lost all evidence of its earlier anguish. _How am I gonna get back?_ Very gently she nudges Sam. His eyes flash thin green slits and unfocused pupils. "Sam, something's happened and I have to get back. I'm so sorry, but I have to go." His eyes open, roll to the side, and slowly close again. "Please Sam, Santana wouldn't send a 911 text if she didn't need me. Can you give me a ride back?"

Stubbornly he shakes his head no. Rewrapping his arms around her, head nestled against her thigh, he whispers, "Phone, speedial number 4."

"What?"

He whispers, "My car service."

"Thank you." Mercedes kisses her fingers and places them along the side of Sam's face. He kisses her on her hip before falling fully back asleep. She pulls a blanket off of the back of the couch and covers Sam with it before making the call.

Within 10 minutes a dark sedan pulls up in Sam's driveway. An honest to God mullet wearing chauffeur in a little black hat with a shiny gold name tag emblazoned with Rick Nelson greets Mercedes as she exist the house. "Ms.?"

"Jones, my name is Mercedes Jones."

"Well, good evening Ms. Jones. Where to?"

" 111 Elm Street. And it's just Mercedes."

"Hop on in, Mercedes." Just as Sam had earlier, he opens the door for her and holds her hand while she sits in the car. She stammers out a quiet thanks. "No problem, just doing my job." Rick isn't the most personable guy, but Mr. Evans gave him a chance when no one else would, so he's always tried to do his best. He doesn't know Mercedes Jones, and picking her up like this in the middle of the night from Mr. Evan's house would make most drivers' ears burn with the scandal of it all. Rick isn't like most drivers. Rick is a decent guy who hasn't necessarily had the easiest of lives. He's learned the hard way never to assume and jump to conclusions. He's been on both sides of that coin, and it sucked either way. If it weren't for Mr. Evans he'd probably be in jail or dead. He was a stick man, the guy who drove the getaway cars for bank robbers. He was the best, but he was young and naïve, and was in it for the thrill of the drive. He didn't know that there were guns involved, big guns, he just sat in the car and made sure that his group made it back. The one time he flaked out because he ran into a friend from his old high school days was the one time the crew used the big guns. Rick never forgave himself for sending his cousin Trent, the back-up driver, to jail for life when the all got caught. Rick didn't understand that banks were federal territory and that you kill someone while robbing one and you all go away for it. Sighing away his memories, The Stick casts what he hopes is a non-judgmental look over Mercedes Jones.

Despite Rick's best efforts, Mercedes is embarrassed, realizing how all of this must look to him. Smiling, Rick tries to make her feel a bit more comfortable and take some of the awkwardness out of the situation. "I have to say that those are some fancy shoes you're wearing. My daughter would love a pair."

A little surer of herself, Mercedes says, "Thanks." Mercedes is smiling shyly as Rick closes the door. While he navigates the large car as if he were on a race track, Mercedes understands the little NASCAR looking flag with the words 'The Stick' on it. Rick 'the Stick' was a good driver, but he took calculated risks that few could stomach. As the trees and estates flying by the windows in the night quickly changed to tall apartment buildings and concrete, Mercedes tries to enjoy the ride. Sam may trust this man to get her back to the apartment safely, but a few times 'The Stick' had her silently calling for Jesus. Soon they were parking on the street below Puck's apartment. Rick opens the door for Mercedes. "Thank you for coming out so late to get me."

"It's my job and I enjoy it, so it was my pleasure. Let me know when you are ready to go back."

Frowning, Mercedes asks, "Go…back… where?"

"Back home, with Mr. Evans."

"Huh?"

"I'm Mr. Evan's personal driver. Which is funny cuz he almost never uses me to drive him around, just other people that he wants me to take care of." While that sunk into Mercedes' brain, The Stick looks around at his surroundings. Mercedes can tell by the slackness in his shoulders that he's right at home just a few blocks away from the strip. She gives him an inquiring look, which he shrugs off. He points to the spot where the car is parked. "I'll stay here until you're ready to return or until I get a call from Mr. Evans telling me that I am needed somewhere else." Mercedes is now looking at him like he's just sprung a second mullet sporting head. "Unless I've got it all wrong?" Mercedes gives him a dubious look. "I assumed that Mrs. Fabray-Evans is no longer…_ummm_…well around."

"True." Mercedes isn't sure what else to say about Quinn. She was gone, but still unfortunately tied to Sam; out of the immediate picture, but not gone for good yet. "Did you drive her around too?"

Expression sour, he says, "Rarely. She wasn't too fond of the fact that Mr. Evans received travel logs each trip. Sometimes when she was supposed to be volunteering _here_, she was really shopping _there_. Tried to get _me_ into trouble because Mr. Evans caught on to her little game." Shaking his head at the craziness of it all, he continues. "So he bought her a car cuz I guess he got tired of fighting. For the most part I'm only used when his family is visiting from Tennessee."

"O—or friends?"

"Or friends of course, although you are the first real friend that Mr. Evans has called me for. He's mostly surrounded by people who work for him."

_As much as I want to…_ "Uhhh, I don't think I'll be going back to Sam tonight."

"Well then, here, in case you change your mind." Rick 'The Stick' hands her a small card with his number on it.

Turning it over in her hands, she says quietly, "But I can't afford to call you every time I need go somewhere."

Smiling, Rick says, "Mr. Evans will cover it. That's what he does for family when they are in town. I'm going to assume that the offer also extends to…um, new friends as well."

_Fairytale… "_Really?"

He nods yes. "Really. Besides, if there is no more Mrs. Fabray-Evans…then I'm practically all yours." He winks and then tips his hat to her, bidding her a good night.

…

All three look up as Mercedes enters the apartment. Looking around, she takes it all in. The cushions on the floor, the stuff in the closet trailing out, cabinet doors left ajar. _Oh no._ She looks in dismay at Santana, who nods in confirmation.

"What are we gonna do Cedes?" Even as she asks, Santana just keeps pacing and pacing.

Brittany offers to give up some money and after some tears, Mercy gives Santana everything she has and then agrees to ask her new friend Sam for help. "But, can it ma—maybe wait a few days. When I left him, he was pretty rough."

Santana can't believe that Mercedes wants to wait. "No, this is an emergency. He drives a _Mercedes_. He has to have some kind of cash."

Mercedes pleads, "He does, but he's only been my friend for all of a week and he just found out about his daughter. The one he never got to have. I can't break his heart, tell him I love him, and then turn around and ask him for money." Mercedes goes momentarily still when she realizes what she's just said. She pretends not to see the small flinch that both Puck and Santana share. Continuing quickly, she asks, "What in the hell kinda sense does that make?" Bottom lip quivering, seeing how everything was already beginning to slip away, she says in a shaky voice, "He's gonna think that I'm just using him for money." Feeling heavier than she's felt in a very long time, Mercedes sits down on the couch and buries her face in her hands. "He's gonna hate me too."

Realizing just how bad that sounds and how potentially bad it could make Mercedes look, Santana relents. "Well, what about Sugar? She's loaded."

Peeking out from behind her fingers, Mercedes says, "Nah, she told me that her daddy finally cut her off. Like for good. Until she's clean, she's dead to him."

"What?" Santana comes to kneel in front of Mercedes. "But he always _cuts her off _but he never really means it."

Shaking her head, Mercedes says, "This time he means it." She shrugs at Santana's bullshit look. "This time he means it."

"Please Mercedes. I would never ask for help if I didn't need it. You know me better than anybody. Please call your boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?" Mercedes scoffs. Under her breath, she says, "He won't be nothin' if I do this."

Pretending not to hear her Santana counters with, "Friend." Sliding her hands along the tops of Mercedes' knees she, says softly, "Future something-or-other. Please just do it." Santana is about two seconds from full on begging. Without that tuition money Esi would be kicked out. If Esi gets kicked out then she'll find out the truth about her sisters. For two years they all pretended that Santana had some kind of trust fund money that she used to pay the school. For two years they had pretended that Santana wasn't really a stripper and that Mercedes wasn't the world's worst hooker. For two years they pretended that it was just easier for them to visit her and stay in hotels for breaks because it was like a fun mini-vacation. They couldn't bring their little sister home to meet Puck. Not that he would do anything, but, Esi thought that they had regular jobs and a decent life. She didn't know the truth.

As if she can read Santana's thoughts, Mercedes says, "Fine." She takes out Sam's business card, unconsciously looking for a way to connect to him. For the first time, she notices the superman style 's' embossed in the corner above his name and a small smile flutters across her lips. That smile that flits by breaks Santana's heart a little more. "Tomorrow." Looking resolutely at Santana, she repeats, "Tomorrow. I'll talk to him again tomorrow." Shaking her head, she adds sullenly, "Only for you."

Santana is humbled by her friends' potential sacrifice. No one could say for sure how Sam would react. No matter how they looked at it, they were always just barely keeping their head above the water. Already their _shit_uation in life was threatening to snatch away their happiness. "No. Nevermind." Santana stands up brusquely and backs away. "No. I'm not doing that to you. You are like a sister to me too and I will not be the one who takes your light." Her face starts to crumble as she fights back the second wave of tears threatening to fall. One stupid act has forced her to force her closest friends to do the very things that they never thought they would do. In that moment Santana hated her life, maybe even herself for the life she's living.

The look of pain on Santana's face isn't lost on Mercedes. She sees that they are caught in some sick revolving game of self sacrifice. But c'est la vie. "Santana this is serious. Esi has to stay in school. You know that this is no place for a girl like her. I would do anything for you and her. You saved my life and there's nothing that I won't do for you." Mercedes shakes her head. "I just wish that I had more time, that's all. But there's never enough."

Santana is still moving away, ashamed and full of denial, when the back of her foot hits something and throws her off balance. Brittany reaches out a hand to steady her. "I can always raid Lord Tubbington's stash of goodies for valuables to sell." Mercedes looks at Puck who just shakes his head. Brittany is _real _special.

"Thanks." Realizing that the other girl's touch and outright dead serious silliness makes her smile despite the situation, Santana looks at Mercedes blows her a solemn kiss goodbye. Mercedes was always her first love, her first everything that mattered. Slowly, Santana sneaks a look at Brittany out of the corner of her eye. Had she been waiting for this blonde girl with the laugh like bubble gum and smile lit her up like a million sparklers?

Puck's voice cuts through the heavy silence in the room, and Santana's thoughts. "I could get more from..."

Dead eyes boring into him, Mercedes says, "Don't say it. You know how I feel about him."

"I know, but he's the only person I know who could get his hands on that kind of cash, no questions asked."

Deadpan, Mercedes responds with, "And too many strings attached."

"True."

Looking at Puck, she sighs and holds out her hand. He takes it, and she says, "I need to talk to you about Matt." The two go into the en-suite bathroom to talk without Brittany and Santana hearing.

* * *

><p><strong>Part Two: Tomorrow<strong>

**A little **_**preview**_** AKA Ma'am We Have a Little Problem…**

_What the hell!_

"Hello, I need one of you to send room service to the executive suite please…..What do you mean room service has been suspended?...But I'm hungry. What am I supposed to do?...No I don't have cash. We have an account. Why would I need cash?...What do you mean my account has been suspended?...Fine, what do you mean that _my husband's_ account has been suspended?...Don't you take that tone with me. Do you have any idea who I am?...Well, Ms. Know-it-all, do you have a supervisor?...Oh in that case, prepare, because I'm about to get you fired."

With her silky robe flowing, Quinn huffs her way down to the lobby. As she approaches the desk, she's already saying, "I can't get Belinda to send up Ru and Monica either."

The prim manager looks at her clerk and motions her away. "Well Mrs. Fabray-Evans, it appears that there has been a hold put on all services connected to your account."

"A hold? What hold, by whom?"

"By Mr. Evans. He's paid the bill for last night's stay and the room service, but we are under express direction not to extend any more services to you without his authorization."

Quinn is almost certain that the woman was laughing at her on the inside. They all were. "What? You mean that I can't even get breakfast without his okay?"

Voice dripping in false courtesy, the manager says, "Unless you have cash, that is correct ma'am. Also, he will not be covering another night for you."

Quinn stammers. "But I just got here." Quinn does not stammer, she causes others to stamer.

"That is true; however Mr. Evans will not pay to allow you another night in _his_ suite."

Bile rising, Quinn sneers, "It's _our_ suite."

In an authoritative voice, the manager corrects her. "According to the computer the suite is in his name. Aside from one brief stay approximately 3 months ago, you have _never_ paid for any services offered by this hotel. And you did not stay in your husband's suite at _that_ time. Unless you can provide advanced payment at _this_ time, we must politely ask you to vacate the suite by 10 am."

Undeterred, Quinn stomps her slippered foot, whining, "But he's my husband."

The manager smiles at Mrs. Fabray-Evans. "He is the one whose name is on the account. He is the one who paid your current bill in full, and he is the one who said that only he is authorized to stay in his room."

With her cheeks blotchy with embarrassment, Quinn, looks around at the other patrons and notices the security guard's sudden interest in their conversation. "Fine, I was planning on going home today anyway." Smiling a fake smile, with her voice full of false confidence, she says lightly, "I've only been gone one night and I guess he misses me."

"If you say so ma'am."

Ice creeping into her green eyes, Quinn hisses, "Watch it. I'll be back and when I am, you'll pay for your attitude. Do you understand me?"

The manager tilts her head in Quinn's direction. "Of course." The level of ice in her eyes matches the level in Quinn's. Clearing her throat, she repeats, "Ten am Mrs. Fabray-Evans or we _will _have security forcibly remove you and your personal belongings from the property." Quinn's mouth falls open. Raising her voice just a fraction, the manager says across the wide counter, "Do you understand me?"

Nodding yes, Quinn flees back to her, correction, Sam's room. She's still being stupid and thinks that this little display of power is just that, a play. She thinks, _This is just a little hiccup. He just wants to show me that he has some power over me. I'll play along, for now._

She throws her stuff in her bag and leaves the room before she is tossed out in a scene causing display. Walking towards her car, she tries to call Sam. He sends the incoming call straight to voicemail. Quinn doesn't bother leaving him a message. Smiling she thinks, _No matter. I can think of about a million ways to spend my day and your money. _

**Straws, Dromedaries, and Bactrians…** (Tomorrow, real time)

…In the wee hours of the morning

Although he's covered in a blanket, Sam isn't very warm as he wakes up in the early morning light without the comforting weight of Mercedes nestled against his chest. Sam sends her a quick text (hope everything is okay with Santana) and he laughs at her reply (wl b fn). Apparently Mercedes Jones is not a morning person and her barely coherent half asleep text confirms this.

Sam goes to slip off shirt and it smells of Mercedes. He smiles as he thinks about waking up in the middle of the night with her asleep on his chest. In her sleep one of her hands had wandered up along the waistband of his jeans, just under his shirt. She had sighed and gently ran her fingers along the fabric, and he remembers wishing that she would wake up. He was feeling _better._ Very tenderly he'd run his hands down her back, and over the curve of her butt. He'd breathed out a strong gust of air that ruffled some to the curls on the top of her head, tucked just under his chin. If she had woken, he would not have been able to stop himself from touching all the parts of her pressing into him behind the fabric of her shirt and jeans. Half-asleep and on auto-pilot, Sam had allowed his late evening fantasy to grow legs and mingle with reality. If she had woken up, he would have pulled her up so that they were eyelevel. He would have rolled her gently on her back and… Sniffing the shirt again, Sam's eyes roll back in his head as he remembers the quiet shock that ran through his body when he suddenly woke up to find himself hovering over Mercedes'. Their warm bodies touching in just the right place to make him bold enough to play the fantasy to the end. Sam remembers her lips being full and soft, and tasting like pink lemonade. He definitely wanted some more pink lemonade, but in return for his kiss, Mercedes only sighed and sank into an even deeper sleep.

The alluring memory of the stolen kiss combined with Mercedes' scent on his shirt makes Sam stir to attention as he pulls it over his head. He brings the crumpled shirt back to his nose and inhales deeply. Repeating the action only increases the pace of the blood flowing in his body. Taking one last intoxicating sniff in, he places the shirt on top of his favorite comic resting on the bookshelf.

After a more interesting than usual shower, a freshly washed Sam Evans starts to lay out his plan.

Today, for the last time, he must focus on Quinn. She always pushed him to use his money, throw it around to make things happen. Well, today he is going to do just that. Sam giveth unconditionally, but today, Sam taketh it all away.

…A little later that morning

Sam checks off 'modify Excelsior Hotel account' off of his list. Checking his watch, he knows that Quinn will find out in a few hours that she's been tossed. If she decides to sleep in then she'll get tossed straight away at 10am on the dot. With a naughty chuckle, Sam hopes that Quinn slept in and gets pulled from the room by security. (Dear readers, see the preview in the previous section for what went down).

Next he sits down at the computer, and after a lot of unnecessary loud knuckle cracking, he cancels all of the credit cards issued to Quinn under his account. Sam knows that she doesn't have any money of her own. She hasn't worked at the news station in ages since the regular weatherman came back. He should feel bad that by the end of the day she will be penniless and on the streets, but he doesn't. It sickens him that someone with so much potential would rather use her so-called powers for evil rather than good. Quinn could have done anything, been anything, and had anything all on her own. She didn't need him to be rich or even famous. Deep down she is strong and she could have clawed her way back after she had Beth, but instead she lost herself even more. Belatedly, Sam wonders what the real Quinn looks like. Shivering at the thought, he decides that he is no longer willing to do whatever may be necessary to thaw the wall of ice around her heart and soul to find out. All Sam can think is, _God bless the next poor schmuck, _as he calls the bank and his financial advisor to have Quinn's named stripped from his bank accounts, severing her last tie to any of his money and earnings.

"Very well Mr. Evans. Before the changes can be accepted you will need to come down and sign some forms."

"Look, I'm very busy this morning. Is it possible for you to send someone to me?"

"Of course Mr. Evans. Someone should be arriving shortly."

As he ends the call, his phone buzzes as he gets a second text from Mercedes: sorry, wasn't awake. call you tonite.

S: Can't wait. Hard day already, will be good to hear ur voice. U sure u can't come over?

M: Maybe. Is it ok to use Rick?

S: Yes

M: Maybe

S: No pressure

M: I know

S: U sure ur ok?

After a pregnant pause, Mercedes texts back: yes&no

Sam thinks, _Well that's not cryptic or anything. _He wants to send her another, but already he's been completely distracted from the total destruction of his soon-to-be-ex-wife by one simple text from his future…

It takes Sam another full minute to talk himself out of calling Mercedes. He sits there at his desk punching out a late reply on his keyboard. He stops just before hitting send. Instead he calls her.

"Hello, Sam?" Mercedes mouths to Santana for silence, indicating that she was on the phone with her future something-or-other earlier than she anticipated. Rather than leave the room to give her some privacy, Santana, Brittany, and Puck mentally pop some popcorn and settle down on the bed across from her. Mercedes rolls her eyes at them, annoyed but smiling because she might need the support if it all goes to hell in shit's handbasket.

Grinning foolishly, Sam replies in her ear, "Yeah. I just want to hear you tell me that everything is alright." He can hear Mercedes breathing and he can't hear her confirming that everything is alright. "Mercedes…"

"_I'm_ alright."

"And everything else? Santana and the 911 text, did you guys sort that out?"

Again there is a noticeable pause. Mercedes is mouthing to Santana 'I'm not ready to do this.' Santana mouths back 'it's okay' while shaking her head 'no'. Santana is letting her off the hook. To Sam, she says, "W—we have a plan."

"Can you tell me?" Sam can hear a quick intake of air on Mercedes' end of the line. "Mercedes, if it's really personal and none of my business you don't have to tell me."

"That's not it." He can hear the slight quiver in her voice from the suppressed emotion. He knows that there is more, something that she's not telling him. His initial thought is that she's lying, but he doesn't think that that's what is going on.

"I—is that all? You have a plan. Am I a part of your plan?" His question is innocent, showing more his uncertainty in this new relationship than his realization that he really is an integral part of some mysterious plan. If Mercedes had been thinking clearly she would have understood this innately, but she's a little wired from having him suddenly on the phone with her. It's fight or flight.

In a quite whine, she asks, "_Why_ did you have to call me?" Followed by, "I'm not ready to do this." Did she just choose flight? It's too late to pull it back now. "I didn't think I could do it anyway." She closes her eyes in silent frustration. That last part was for Santana, not Sam.

Sam doesn't have a doe-eyed audience, and he's fairly certain that they are talking about two different things. "I am talking about us, not whatever is going on, and I know that you are talking about whatever is going on and not actually about us. I have no idea what happened, but I was just joking about being an integral part of your plan, unless you need me." Belatedly, he adds, "I—I hope that made sense. You said you wanted to talk to me. I figure now or later, it shouldn't really matter, right?"

Silence. The look on Mercedes' face makes Santana rear up on her knees and silently start to crawl towards her. Mercedes stops her with a shake of her head. Santana slides off of the bed silently exiting the room. Brittany quickly follows. Puck reluctantly leaves only after he mimes to Mercedes that if 'he hurts you I will hurt him' and he gets her to smile reluctantly.

"Mercedes are you there?"

Clearing her throat, trying to force it back open after it closed so suddenly before at his words, Mercedes says, "Yeah, I'm here…and I understand. I'm sorry for being all shady before, but you're right. It shouldn't matter when I talk to you if I need to talk to you." She pauses, expecting Sam to fill the silence. Instead all she can hear is her heart beat pounding in her ears. He is waiting for her to say her piece. "While I was at your place, we got robbed."

"Oh my goodness! That's terrible." Sam can't help but feel just a little silly about his inner worry. "Nobody got hurt did they?"

Slowly, Mercedes says, "No, everyone is okay."

"Well that's good to know. Stuff can be replaced, people can't. You call the police?"

"It's weird and complicated, but we can't go to the cops." She can hear a soft 'oh' from Sam's side of the conversation. "They would laugh in our face anyway. There's no way to prove what was taken even if they did take it seriously."

"What was taken?"

Closing her eyes and willing her voice not to waiver, Mercedes says, "Money, all of it."

Terror, cold and burning, flashes through Sam. In an indifferent tone, he asks, "Yours?"

"No, I don't have enough money to hide any away."

"Then whose was it?" The icy tone in his voice makes her want to physically shake the chill from her hand.

_No…no, no, no. Please no. This is not fair. Never fair. _"It was Santana's money for Esi."

_Of course, the sister away at school. _Sam starts laughing. It's a sad, dry chuckle that still counts as laughter, but even Mercedes can hear the pain underneath it all. "Not you too…" is all Sam is able to get out before ending the call abruptly.

"I know how it sounds, but I'm not asking you for…" It takes Mercedes a moment to realize that when she cut Sam off to try and explain what she needed, he'd already hung up.

Chasing that rainbow, Mercedes hits call again. The rainbow slips a bit farther away when it goes straight to voicemail. She hits call again. Voicemail. Things are starting to look tinged in gray once more. Last try. Voicemail. When she opens her mouth to leave him a message, her voice fails her. Everything that she wants to say or needs to say is stuck in her throat along with her next breath and a wave of unshed tears. She ends the call, figuring that she should have known that it was going to end this way. It always ended this way.

As Mercedes slowly exits the bedroom, her dropped shoulders and slow shuffle are all the explanation necessary to show that everything really did go to hell in shit's handbasket. The silently falling tears only add fuel to the flames. "Oh Mercedes, I'm so sorry. I—I never…I—I didn't want for this to happen. But…" Santana is at a loss for words. Puck is internally planning to kill Sam. Even Brittany has lost a little bit of her sparkle.

"No." Mercedes' voice is a hoarse whisper. "I should have seen this coming. Stuff like what's been happening to me never happens to girls like me. You know that when it's too good to be true it's usually a bunch of crap anyway." Wiping away her tears, she says, "He didn't even let me finish. He just lumped me in with Quinn and hung up. Not that I blame him. But, it's all just too much."

"Mercedes, you have to give him some time. May—maybe he'll come around." Mercedes doesn't even look up at Puck's words.

"I thought _you'd_ be happy."

"That ain't fair Cedes." Mercedes looks up slowly. "I can't be happy with you like this, not over some bullshit. If he's dumb enough to do this to you then he doesn't deserve you. But even I know that this ain't the right way it should go down. He's gotta know the truth or I win by default."

"But…" Mercedes' face is moving, contorting, struggling to remain composed, fighting to keep the smooth silent tears from becoming those ugly cries. "…but someone should win."

With his head turned to one side, Puck walks over and slowly takes Mercedes into his arms. "It's gotta be you, and you know that I'm just the consolation prize." Pressing a kiss into her forehead, he whispers, "You take some time and get yourself together, and after we get through this, you lay it out for him. If he doesn't slap himself raw for being so stupid then I'll kill him."

"Deal."

Clearing her throat, Brittany asks quietly, "Without Sam's help, what are we gonna do?"

Sighing deeply, Mercedes pushes herself out of Puck's embrace. With an eye on Santana, she wipes her face. "We'll do what we always do." She reaches out one hand to Santana and the other to Brittany. "We'll save ourselves."

…

For a while, Sam sits there at his desk completely numb. Soon however, the numbness is replaced by an ache that only grows more intense the longer he thinks about Mercedes.

He thinks, _Maybe I need to slow down. Rushing into things is what got me saddled with Quinn in the first place. I mean, did Mercedes really expect me to believe that all of this is just a coincidence? _Sam rapidly takes stock of his tumultuous week. He's separated with his wife and fallen head over heels in love with a total stranger. _Was any of it true or did I walk into another elaborate scam? _Sam is struggling to figure out the truth. He isn't sure if anything that Mercedes told him, her entire sob story, holds water. He hasn't had a chance to really fact check because she seemed so sincere in the telling of it. _I mean the guy she lives with is the father of my wife's child. She just happened to be the one to tell me about what happened to my baby while her best friend got robbed. And now we're back to money. _Mentally Sam takes out scales to weigh the facts, his feelings, and the truth.

On the one hand he has been interested in Mercedes since he first saw her. He's always felt like that was fate. Sure he'd gotten lost a little, but he had felt that he was back on the right track when they reconnected. There is no way to deny how she makes him feel. Married or not all he sees when he closes his eyes is her. But is that how she feels about him? She never saw him that day at the college. Was this all in his head?

Is her story true? She is a hooker. She says that she's never actually been in any way successful, but how is he to know. If she's telling the truth then he is more than ready to crawl to her and beg forgiveness for jumping to conclusions and being a horrible…whatever he is to her; friend at the very least. If it is all a lie made up to break him down and get access to his money then where does that leave him? He certainly can't go back with Quinn, and if everything is just as fake with Mercedes, then that means that he'll be alone.

It all comes down to trust. Did he trust that Mercedes is telling him the truth?

Before Sam can ponder an answer, his stomach rumbles loudly. He begins to think that missing lunch and dinner the previous night is catching up with him, perhaps making him jumpy and irrational. Silently Sam makes his way to his kitchen to prepare a small breakfast. Chewing quietly he mulls over his dilemma.

With an empty bowl before him, and no closer to the answer about Mercedes, Sam decides that the only thing he knows for sure is that he's done with Quinn. Pushing his warring thoughts and feeling about Mercedes aside, Sam continues cut Quinn off from everything she holds dear, mainly his money.

_I hate this house. I've always hated this house. _Everywhere he looks he sees things. Just things; cold, impersonal things, along with the occasional figurine of Mary or a crucifix. Even those were bought just for show. Everything looks perfect. _If I hate this house so much, why am I still here?_ Sam calls his realtor and lets her know that his house is now for sale, effective immediately. He also instructs her that he needs a new temporary place, a more bachelor appropriate space, ASAP. She assures him that she will have places lined up by the evening if he's in a rush. He's in a rush.

Again in his study, his eyes are drawn to the couch and the impressions still left by his and Mercedes' bodies in the soft old leather. Without any hint of hesitation he sits down and closes his eyes, transporting himself back to the previous night. To the time before she left and he just held her and they could forget about everything else. Sighing, Sam opens his eyes, and they fall immediately on the folder still lying on the coffee table. That only makes him more depressed, but determined to eventually figure out the truth. He can't deny that he wishes that Mercedes was still there with him, despite their falling out. But, and his eyes won't let his heart avoid the truth, he's been fooled before. Picking up the folder, Sam sits at his desk. He calls his lawyer and tells him to draw up divorce papers, effective immediately, adding that they should have a clerk bring them over for him to sign as soon as they are ready.

…That afternoon

Walking around dejected, Quinn sees for the first time that she doesn't really have friends. She has women who run in the same social circle as her, but they weren't real friends. They had to hang out with each other because none of them would sully their position by fraternizing with someone outside of their exclusive little group. Plus you were only in as long and you were seen. She couldn't very well call one of them to float her some money or take her out to lunch. They would be the first 'sources close to the couple' cited in one of those stupid tabloid articles when people found out that Sam had kicked her out. There were other people, but they were only forced to spend time with her or used her like she used Sam, for the money. Laughing to keep from crying, she can admit that the only person she's even remotely close to is Sam, and she's always kept him at arms length.

Quinn is forced to use her own money to buy lunch out, still not ready to face Sam. She had found some cash in her car that she generally used for unexpected tolls. Today her spare change introduced her to the joys of the newly revamped dollar menu. _Never again._ She decides to go to her favorite boutique to make herself feel better. They had free tapas and champagne. Plus, she has an account there, so she didn't need money or credit cards. There's more than one way to skin a cat.

…

Annoyed at how long it was taking to ring up her purchases, Quinn whines, "What exactly is taking so long? I come in here all the time. I have my own account. Why am I still here?"

The associate behind the vintage table that has been repurposed for a counter looks up nervously. "Ummm, Th—there seems to be—a"

"A what? Speak up girl! I have other places to be." Quinn snickers and then turns to roll her eyes at the woman waiting behind her, mouthing the words 'new girl'. The older woman raises her eyebrows at the scene unfolding before her, but wisely says nothing.

Straightening her back and hardening her face, the associate resumes speaking in a much louder tone. To be certain, even the women in the dressing room are able to hear her say, "There is a problem with your account. It appears that your husband has canceled your line of credit with our boutique. He is the one the account is under, even if you are the only one to ever use it." The petite woman gains another inch in height at the rage that blossoms across Quinn's face. "Unless you have another means of payment?" She pauses, and begins speaking again so quickly that it's clear that she knows already that Quinn has no money of her own. "In that case, I am going to have to ask you to leave the premises immediately."

Shocked, Quinn slowly backs away from the associate as the manager approaches, asking loudly, "Is there a problem?" The older woman in line turns to face Quinn, eager as everyone else in the boutique, now stopped in their tracks like deer in oncoming headlights as they eagerly away her answer.

"No, no problem. I'm going to go and call my husband and then I'll be right back."

As the tinkling of the bells at the door reaches her ears, Quinn swears that she can also hear catty laughter at her back.

…

Making the most of what's left of his afternoon, Sam calls his locksmith and has him come over and change all of the locks on the house.

He calls the alarm company and has them reset all of the codes.

He then calls a courier to pick up the new keys and alarm information for his realtor.

His next call is to a moving company. The trucks arrive in record time and it takes Sam less than an hour to instruct them on which items to take to storage, which items to take to charity, and which items to take to the auction house. Most of the stuff in his house, bought with his money, wasn't really his.

While the movers are boxing up everything, the financial representatives arrive and Sam signs all of the necessary papers.

Then he makes his final call, to his car dealership. Ending the call, Sam catches himself smiling. _I suppose that screwing Quinn over is better than nothing…But I'd rather let her have everything if it meant that I could fix this mess with Mercedes. I have this nagging feeling that I jumped the gun and effed everything up._

_But_…he still wasn't sure, and about this he needs to be certain.

….Very late afternoon

After her third favorite store turns her away like the first two, Quinn finally begins to crack.

As she walks out to her car she mutters to herself, _Okay Sam, you've made your point. You wanna talk, we'll talk. You want the truth; well, all I have to give you are lies, because I am pretty sure that you can't handle the truth._ She makes the journey home, driving rather like an aged grandma, trying to put off the inevitable.

Meanwhile, Sam's lawyers arrive with the divorce papers. He signs them without even reading them. As they leave his realtor arrives with three temporary options for a young professional bachelor. Sam then leaves with the realtor to look at the properties. His tastes are simple, and way far in the back of his heart's mind, he's only going to be there a short while anyway.

….Evening

Sitting in the darkening driveway, looking at the empty house, Quinn sits in her BMW crying. She can see the huge 'For Sale' sign stuck in the lawn and the face of their crazy agent, Suzy Pepper sneering at her from the swinging placard. Her garage door opener won't work. _Where is Sam? _Quinn is throwing a pity party of one. Sniffling, she slowly approaches the front door. Her hand is trembling as she tries to fit her key into the lock. It doesn't work. A quick glance through the front bay window confirms her suspicion. The house is completely empty, drapes and all, and Sam is truly gone. She rushes around to the back of the house to see if he's left the new hide-a-key in the old hiding spot. No such luck. Slowly she makes her way back towards the front of the house. The sight which greets her stirs some of her old self. "Hey, what are you doing? Get away from my car, you thief!"

The repoman Burt doesn't even turn to acknowledge her approach or her bony hands pulling at his arm. Instead he takes out the dealer issued keys left for him by Mr. Evans and drives the car onto the carrier. After climbing back down to the ground, he holds up a finger to Quinn as if she needs to 'wait for it'. He then reaches into the cab of his truck and says dryly, "Here, this is for you." Burt hands her a large manila envelope. Taking off his beat-up old cap, Burt leans against the truck and takes a measured look at Quinn. "Hrmp."

"What? Why are you still here?"

Amusement coloring his face, Burt says, "Why are _you_ still here? Oh right, I just impounded your car. Or should I say your husband's car?"

"It is _our_ property, just because his name is listed as owner of everything doesn't mean anything. We are married."

"That right? So why are you the one standing here with only an envelope to your name? I will never understand it." Burt holds his hands out palm up, like the scales of justice. Raising his right one up, he says, "Two words and the truth or…" He reverses the action and raises his left higher, "some of the nastiest, most bitter divorces ever." Shrugging he asks, "Why is it so hard to say that you're sorry?" Quinn clutches the envelope to her chest, now extremely curious as to its contents. Shaking his head, Burt says, "I see this a lot in my line of work. I don't need to look in that envelope to know that you did him wrong. This type of reaction only comes from the guys that fell hard and fast. The ones that got their hearts broke. He probably doesn't even care about the money."

Quinn's thin frame is trembling trying to fight the urge to cry in front of this stranger with the surprising insight. "So."

"So, this…" Burt sweeps his arm around, encompassing the car and the vacant property, "could have all been avoided. I don't know about your particular situation, but a heartfelt apology and the truth can go a really long way. I've even seen it go a full one-eighty."

"None of that will do me any good, he's already moved on." Quinn finds it hard to tell this man even a white lie. "Well, maybe that's not quite true, _yet_. Trust me, he knows exactly where he's going after he gets rid of me." For just a moment she lets this stranger see her. The her that looks perfect on the outside and is so flawed on the inside. The her that doesn't like to admit that she makes mistakes, big mistakes. _How can you come back from something like this anyway? _The her that feels like she's not really worth fighting for anyway.

"I'm real sorry to hear that, everyone deserves a happy ending." As she watches him climb into his truck and leave taking her car with him, she believes him.

She goes to sit on the front step. The act of unfastening the clasp on the envelope causes the divorce papers to spill out into her hand. A small frown furrows her brow. It only deepens when she sees that Sam has already signed them. The frown turns into a downright ugly scowl when she pulls a copy of her medical records out of the envelope. The last small slip of paper to flutter out of the envelope sends her careening over the edge from scowling into rage. All it said was, 'You can keep your phone because I need a way to contact you, for now at least. – S'

_How the hell?_ Matt, that much is obvious, but he wouldn't unless someone else called in a favor or paid him. _Puck? _Quinn knows that Puck is hurt about Beth, but messing with her wouldn't bring her back. He knows that. Who then?_ That whore Mercedes. _Sneering, she thinks,_ Okay, if that's how you want to play it. But how to get her back? _

Quinn pulls out the only thing left to her besides the clothes on her back, her cell phone.

…

Looking entirely too shady for her own good, Santana slickly swipes Mercedes' cell phone and pulls Brittany into the bathroom with her, locking the door behind them. "I needs you to make sure that I don't say anything inappropriate and screw this up anymore than I already have." Brittany nods quickly. After going through Mercedes' phone book, Santana says a little prayer and calls Sam.

Sam's deep voice sounds in her ears, "It's a bird, it's a plane, it's…just…Sam. Please leave a message."

Mouthing 'nyerd', Santana listens for her prompt to leave a voice mail message. In a foreign, almost uncertain voice, she starts. "He—hello, S—Sam? This is Santana Lopez an—"

"And Brittany S. Pierce!" Brittany quips into the open space between the two girls.

Shaking her head, Santana, continues. "I don't know if you know me, but you know Mercedes. Look, you have to talk to her. It's my fault that she needed to talk to you in the first place. Believe it or not _we_ did get robbed. Well, at least I did anyway. And that money _was_ for Esi's tuition. BUT Mercedes wasn't calling to beg you for money. She's better than that and although she was going to, I wouldn't let her." More to herself than to Sam, she says, "I know you don't know me, or Esi, so why the hell should you believe me or even care?" Frowning, Santana looks at Brittney, unsure of what to say next.

In a certain tone, Brittany answers Santana's question with, "Because he cares about Mercedes. I don't really know Mercedes or Esi, but I love you and it makes the fairies sick when you cry." Brushing her hand along the side of Santana's face gently, Brittany continues. "I don't like it when you cry. And I bet Sam doesn't like it when Mercedes cries either."

A half-smile pulling at her lips, Santana says dreamily, "That's right Britts. I knew I needed you and your wonder-wisdom." Wiping the soft look (that Sam couldn't see anyway) off of her face, Santana barks, "So if you care and you don't want Mercedes to keep crying over your sorry ass then you will come and tell her that you're sorry for punking out on her earlier." Brittany's eyes grow wide with warning. Santana whispers, "Too much?" Brittany scrunches up her face, nodding. Louder, into the phone, Santana says, "Ummm, look all I'm saying is that you're the first friend that Mercedes has met that seems legit in years who isn't a hooker, a stripper, a pimp, or up to no good. I know that she was just looking for someone to talk to, for support. You know, stuff that she's supposed to get from her friends. You may be new, but you're important to her."

"That's better." Santana cuts her eyes at Brittany, who just smiles back.

"Ummm I'm trying to get some donations at work, the Glee Club, tom—tomorrow night. Mercy told me that she told you about it. She'll be there to help out. Just show up at 6 before the show and talk to her, _puhleese_." Not one to end on a pleading soft note, Santana adds for good measure, "You owe it to her to be able to look you in the eye so you can see how much it hurt her to do this and that she's not some trifling gold digger like your skanky wife. Money aside, she needs her friends, and that's what she keeps calling you. So man the fuck up." After smirking in satisfaction, Santana quirks her eyebrow at Brittany in triumph.

Brittany hisses, "Santana, how's that supposed to help?"

"Sorry, I'm just pissed. Besides, he'll either understand or he won't. It's good that he learns the truth about me now." Santana shrugs her shoulders indifferently.

Confused about the truth, Brittany asks cautiously, "And that is?"

"That I'ma crusty bitch and practically her sister. I'm not going nowhere, and if he really wants in, then he'll have to accept me as I am." Brittany can't really argue with that.

…

Quinn rolls her eyes as she listens to girls realize that the connection was still open, laugh, and then end the phone call. If Santana had said any more or hinted at some kind of relationship between Sam and Mercedes, then Quinn would have forwarded the message to her lawyer. But 'friends' don't trigger the infidelity clause. Not even obviously whorish stripper friends.

_Hmmm…. To delete or not to delete, that is the question. Knowing him, he'll pass it off as research for his next book just like that little lunch date. _Refusing to go down without a fight, she thinks, _Still, I could use it against him somehow. _She makes a mental note to call her lawyer Sebastian Smythe after she finds a place to crash for the night. Sneering, Quinn forwards the message to her own voicemail box and then promptly deletes it from Sam's.

With a wry chuckle, she calls her only other 'friend' from high school left, Anthony Rashad, who just so happens to be married to her cousin Terri. Desperate times call for desperate measures and the Rash and Honey Badger were about as desperate as they come.

* * *

><p><strong>End Notes:<strong>

So this update was a real grab bag. We got some SanBackstory, some SamCedes, some Brittana, and some FU Quinn. And some angst. I have no idea where that last bit came from, but I've had a very challenging few weeks, so…I incorporate it where I can.

I still couldn't bring myself to have Mercedes tell Puck about Matt, but that's what went down in the bathroom. Let's just let that be an off screen moment. I had Santana give a blow job to a dude that reminded her of soggy bread for cryin' out loud. Sometimes, it is all just too much.

(Yes, Rick 'The Stick's cousin is Trent, as in that lovely husky gay Warbler with rhythm, tall hair, and immaculate skin that turns Kurt green with envy!)

I recently saw "Why did I get married too?" And one of the couples kept having this endless fight about cell phone passwords to check messages, seeing it as a trust issue if the husband wouldn't give it up. Sam had no problem giving his up to Quinn when they got married. How long before he figures out what she did?

Must use word used: "Fuckery" for Isis Aurora Tomoe. Others are still in the queue, like 'twat' which will be used in an encounter between a certain boozy cougar and a youngish entertainer named Josh Groban who loves himself some boozy cougars. *snickers*

**C'mon y'all, you know I can't just end it like that!**

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><p><strong>Part Three: They Stole His Heart Completely<strong>

…Evening (continued)

It took Sam no time at all to decide on a temporary space. He's already unpacking his few boxes of stuff, consisting mainly of books, clothes, and a few other personal items like photos. As he unpacks he has the iHome system blasting. This happens to provide the perfect excuse for why he doesn't hear his cell phone ringing or the chime indicating that he had a voice mail message. (Yes dear readers, it's the message from Brittana that evil Quinn deleted.)

The medical records from Quinn's abortion were with his lawyers. They were more than enough to ensure that Quinn would get nothing in the divorce. The only things he kept were the sonograms. Flipping through the frames again, Sam feels a slow warmth creep across his chest. It used to hurt, but ever since that lunch date in the diner the warmth just spreads and spreads. His heart used to feel like there were bands binding it tight, but they've loosened and thinking of Neytiri only brings him happy thoughts, just tinged around the edges with heartache. He'd fallen in love with her before he even met her. Somehow a photo of Quinn from the time that she was pregnant happened to be mixed in with the other pictures. Methodically, Sam tears the photo into pieces and walks slowly over to the trash bin. Outwardly he looks calm, but internally his blood is starting to boil. All of this mess is her fault. EVERYTHING. Sure it felt good today, hurting her in every possible way he could conceive, but it still left him unfulfilled. Everything he thought was certain apparently wasn't. As he watches the pieces of the photo drop into the trash, he wants to do more. In that moment he could kill Quinn. Being honest with himself, Sam admits to the fichus plant that he would out and out strangle Quinn to death if she had been there. Sinisterly, he thinks that Mercedes and Rick would help him hide the body, and then he remembers that he hung up on Mercedes that morning.

Mercedes.

Letting go of his homicidal thoughts, a deflated Sam sinks into his armchair and reaches for a draft of his book, THE BOOK; the one about Mercedes. It's really more of a plan than a draft, with scribbles and notes and lots of exclamation points. Pretending to be working, and really just missing the sound of her voice, he plays back part of their conversation in the diner (from the 5 pm block).

_***oOo Sweet Samcedes Flashback Time Starts Now oOo***_

"So, what's your dream Mercedes?"

Looking up from her dinner special, puzzled, she asks, "Dream?"

Gesturing in the air with his fork, Sam says, "Yeah, you know that thing you always wanted to do with your life. I'm looking for motivations for the heroine in the book."

Her eyes cloud over and he sees his mistake too late. "Sorry, I guess you didn't have the kind of childhood that generated dreams of fairytale endings."

Eyes cast down she simply says, "No." Looking at him fumble with the food on his plate she explains. "I mean before…before _it_ started I was." Thinking back to her former self, the one still innocent and happy, she smiles. "I wanted to be a singer, win a Grammy, and drive a Mercedes." She snorts through her nose, causing her eyes to fly open wide. Shaking it off, she continues. "A Mercedes in a Mercedes."

Sam shares in her little joke. Mercedes is smiling, but he can see that it's forced. Stabbing extra forcefully at the chicken on her plate, she says, "Uh, but ev—every little girl's first prince is her daddy and mine turned out to be the dragon in need of slaying. Kinda ruined the whole fairytale thing for me, so now I don't believe."

"I guess I can't blame you."

The look she gives him tells him that she's come to expect it. "I pretty much always had to save myself. Every guy in my life save a very few has either hurt me or let me down. At this point I wouldn't know what to do with a prince if I saw one." A noticeably pink blush colors Sam's cheeks. Mercedes can't help but smile as she watches the tint spread across his face. Sam notices that the twinkle is back in her eyes, and this only causes his blush to deepen. "Knowing me I'd probably try to cut him before I'd let him rescue me."

Sam feigns shock, but his concern is real. "No guy helps you? None at all?"

Mercedes knows what he's getting at. "Puck," she nods reluctantly, "but it took me weeks before I would even talk to him; months before we really became friends. And some of his best friends can't really be trusted and he doesn't see it, so even then I can't let my guard completely down, know what I mean?"

Common ground was never easier to find than it was with Mercedes. "Yeah, I feel the same way about a lot of my new 'friends'. I don't usually get really close to anybody that I meet after I published." Boring holes straight into her soul with his green eyes, he says, "But there are exceptions to every rule, know what I mean."

Smiling, Mercedes brings the conversation back to safer territory. "Now don't get the wrong idea about Puck, he's a good guy who'd give someone a beatdown for me, but so would Santana. And I'm no fighter like them, but we all got scraped up that night those kids tried to jump Marcus at the Glee Club."

Sam sits up in his chair. "The Glee Club? Umm, let me guess; has nothing to do with show choir?"

"You would guess correctly. It's the strip club that Santana works at."

Taking a swig from his drink, Sam asks casually, "You don't work there too?" His forward question causes Mercedes to half choke on her drink. Quickly continuing, Sam says, "Not that there's anything wrong with that. Shady stuff _can_ happen, but a lot of people earn an honest living that way."

Surprise and embarrassment forgotten, Mercedes lets loose a full, ringing laugh. Quietly, Sam thinks that he would love to hear a laugh like that every day without fail.

Slapping her hand on the table, Mercedes exclaims, "Santana would probably kiss you for calling it an _honest living_. I know I couldn't do it. I mean, I would have to be desperate with a capital D and even then I still don't know if I could. Takes a certain kind of person to stand on a stage be so exposed. I work real hard to sorta fade into the back ground."

Sam finds that impossible for someone as lovely as her. He watches as the mirth fades from her face and is replaced by a shy smile. Belatedly, he realizes that he said that out loud. Now it's his turn to bring the conversation back to safer ground. "Puck…my wi—wife has a friend from school named Puck. But she says that he's some really successful small business owner or something. They hardly ever talk anymore."

All Mercedes can say is, "I doubt that your wife runs with my Puck's crowd."

"Yeah, that would be freaky, right?"

_***oOo Sweet Samcedes Flashback Time Ends Now oOo***_

_Oh fuck, I'm her prince._ Sam punches the arm of his chair, his thigh, and as he gets up, the nearest wall extra hard for jumping to conclusions earlier on the phone. Mercedes had actually tried to reach out to him for help and he was the one who did the cutting. If he really means what he's been saying, why should it matter what she needs from him if he is able to give it?

Sam blushes at the shame of it all. It's nothing like it was with Quinn. Quinn lied and weaseled his money away. Even so, he gave her everything she asked for in the hopes of keeping her happy. He already feels more for Mercedes than he ever felt for Quinn.

Quinn.

Pacing from one end of his small living room to the other he wonders: How could he have been so stupid? Wasted so much time? Missed other opportunities because of her? His thoughts turn back to Mercedes. In his head he blames Quinn for everything that has gone horribly wrong. Needing to take all of his pent up frustration out on something, he grabs the nearest thing, the door handle. Over and over he slams the door, each and every time it bangs shut he images Quinn's head in the narrowing seam. _BAM_… a short brunette head pops out across the hall. Sam doesn't care that he's causing a scene. _BAM, BAM, BAM_…instead of it helping him feel better, it only makes him angrier. His hand slips and he throws the door open, causing it to slam into the wall and collide with the coat rack. Instinct takes over, and as Sam watches the coat rack fall, he makes a small dive to catch it before it hits the ground. _Déjà vu._ Instantly he flashes back to the first time he talked to Mercedes. He is now back in the day he almost knocked her to the ground in the diner entrance; the day before the best lunch he'd ever had. _Tomorrow. _He smiles, anger abated.

"_I'm not surprised, not everything lasts; I've broken my heart so many times I stopped keeping track; Talk myself in, I talk myself out; I get all worked up then I let myself down…"_

Absently twirling the coat rack in his hands, Sam realizes that in his heart of hearts he owes it to Mercedes to at least hear her out. Feeling a stirring that starts inside and swells with the music, Sam begins to twirl the rack in larger and larger circles.

"_And I know some day that it'll all turn out; You'll make me work so we can work to work it out; And I promise you kid that I give so much more than I get; I just haven't met you yet…"_

Tapping his toe, he does a little quick box-step. He starts to sway to the music, hunching his shoulders up and down to the beat, and pulling on his best debonair face. With a quick movement of his hand, he places the hat from the rack on his head. Clearly his natural inclination is still to be with her and he can't deny that several times that day he had to remind himself that they weren't talking. Or they had broken up. Or…well he wasn't sure what they really were doing, but as he dances with his coat rack, he thinks about her. Pushing aside what happened that morning and living in what had happened before she had to leave, he dips the coat rack like he dipped Mercedes in the diner as he sings along with the music.

"I might have to wait, I'll never give up; I guess it's half timin and the other half's luck; Wherever you are, whenever it's right; You'll come outta nowhere and into my life…". That's exactly how he's felt about her since day one. Why he's been drawn to her. She was always out there waiting for him. Lost in his innocent day dream, a tuxedoed Sam serenades, twirls, dips, and spins his gowned lady around the dance floor under the spotlights.

"And I know that we can be so amazing; And being in your life is gonna change me; And now I can see every single possibility…" He's belting out the lyrics as loud as he can. It has been ages since he really sang. He used to play his guitar whenever he'd hit a wall writing, but he's only just found the inspiration to write another book. The two girls that he lost his heart to without even meeting them were his inspiration.

"Oh you know it'll all turn out; And you'll make me work so we can work to work it out; And promise you kid to give so much more than I get yeah; I just haven't met you yet…" Thinking about how Mercedes helped him heal his heart, and even now, the thought of her turns his feelings from rage to something hopeful and amazing, Sam see's that there is no way that he can give her more than he's already gotten. She's been there through his most anguishing pain and she's the one who helped him see the light on the other side. Mere money will never repay her.

Sam executes a smooth floor slide and a Gene Kelly-esqe style hat roll with his black fedora down his arm to his hand, before flipping the fedora back onto his head and tilting it to one side. "…I said love, love, love, love, love, love, love; I just haven't met you yet…"

Is he willing to give Mercedes another chance? _Most definitely._ More importantly, is she willing to give him another chance? _Hopefully, yes._

Snapping his fingers in time to the music, Sam goes for the big rousing finish, finally righting the coat rack and putting the hat back on it. _Clap, clap, clap_…Jumping at least a foot in the air, Sam is startled to find a neighbor watching him through the open doorway. Feeling more like his usual self, Sam begins to blush furiously. The woman gives him a wave and he just laughs, and takes a bow, crossing his arm over his waist while bending. Just as she's about to introduce herself to her new, cute neighbor, Sam closes the door. He's already thinking about how to fix this with Mercedes.

Smiling now, Sam wonders why he got so angry about everything earlier.

The only answer he could come up with was that he was still reeling from the day before; hell, the days before. The news about the abortion, the fighting and subsequent separation from Quinn, Mercedes being suddenly ripped away in the middle of the night when he needed her the most, not eating properly, and having to play the 'bad guy' today had all combined to keep him on edge and ready to lash out. He was on his best behavior with all of the different people he had to interact with, but his guard was down with Mercedes. She had called him for help and not for herself, but for Esi and Santana. _Any other time I would have given her a blank check, no questions asked. I_ _don't care about the money, but I do care about her. _Balling up his fists, clenching and relaxing them over and over again at his stupidity, he thinks, _She might not have even been asking for money. Some friend I turned out to be. _

Praying that she would be able to forgive him, he tries to call Mercedes.

…

Trying to hide her smile, Santana grabs Mercedes' phone off of the kitchen counter. "Mercy, it's Sam, you wanna talk to him? You _really _should talk to him."

"No."

The call goes to voicemail. Undeterred he dials again.

Pleading, Santana tries again. "Mercy _please, _you have to fix this."

Stubbornly, Mercedes says, "No."

To voicemail.

Trying for a third time, Santana answers, and swiftly hands the phone to Mercedes who promptly ends the call. "No. I have been slapped back too many times. I'm tired of wanting more and ending up even farther down in the pit than where I started."

Changing tactics, Santana tries again to get Mercedes to talk to Sam. "I have every reason to be all gloom and doom, but I'm not. So you can't be either. Don't give up so fast. You can fix this. He wouldn't be calling if he didn't want to fix this."

Shaking her head, defeat clear, Mercedes says, "Maybe, but why bother when it's just going to fall apart again. I never win and you know it." Sam calls for a forth time. Looking at the phone, she says to Santana, "He had his chance. We know what we need to do. I'll get it all set up. We can do this. We don't need him." She walks away leaving the phone on the counter.

To her back, Santana whispers, "But you need him."

Sam doesn't try a fifth time. (But that's only because he left a message after the fourth call :)

* * *

><p><strong>Preemptive End Note:<strong> I know things seem a bit bleak, but I promise this is not a 'web of love' type deal. There is a more than happy ending coming, in a bunch of chapters. We aren't even halfway there yet. Just think about how much you will enjoy their relationship even more by **CH 12: Whimsy**, when they wake up together in that executive suite at the Excelsior. But you still have a bit of story to go before then. Needless to say, Quinn does not take things well. She never does (but I love batshit evil plotty Quinn, so here she comes!)

Sam's song was Michael Bublé's 'Haven't Met You Yet'.

Quinn sets a little revenge plan into motion in **CH 8: All About the Benjamins**, where the girls undertake somewhat desperate measures (for some involved) to raise the tuition money. Here's an obvious hint, it involves glitter, tassels, and Holly Holiday's saggin tits. Will Sam understand or is it over for him and Mercedes before it even begins?

Thanks for reading and I hope that you liked it!


	9. CH 8:  All About The Benjamins

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, tis a shame, but tis true.**

**CH 8: All About the Benjamins**

**Dear Readers: Thanks again for all of the alerts, favorites, and those awesome, awesome reviews. It does a writer good to know that you NEEDS to know what happens next. This is dedicated to Mad-Like, b/c that oneshot she posted about the **_**totally believable**_** way that prom went down had me cracking up. I love it when you aren't afraid to pour on the bitter bitter angst (and I agree that the last 2.75 episodes have been a hard pill to swallow for us Samcedes lovers).**

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><p><strong>Introduction: Just as we fix some things, a few other things fall apart. That's the way the story crumbles.<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Part One: Hard On Super-Collider<strong>

"Mercedes, it's Sam." He releases a breathy chuckle that is more breath than chuckle. "You know, I can't blame you for not wanting to talk to me. Trust me, if I were you I wouldn't want to talk to me either." He hopes that she will take him back. "Look, I just want to say that I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry for hanging up on you like that. I should have given you a chance to talk to me instead of jumping to conclusions like a fuckin douche. I was wrong and trust me I've got the bruised knuckles and hole in the wall to prove that I know it. I'm so sorry that I insulted you even for _a moment _by likening you to Quinn. I've only known you for a week and I already know that you're nothing like her, but I—I got scared and panicked and…and messed everything up. Please don't let everything be all messed up."

"I don't even know why I did it. I mean I loved Quinn, she treated me like dirt, and I gave her everything. I love you and I would give you the wor—." Sam freezes, mouth hanging open, mid-sentence. To himself, but loud enough to be recorded he says, "_Oh fuck_, I did not just say that." Louder he says, "I mean that I…I…_shi_—" Silence. Shaking his head, and figuring that it was going to come out anyway, Sam keeps talking. "I guess I can't take that back, can I?" He pauses as if Mercedes were on the phone about to answer him.

"Don't get the wrong idea, it's not because it's not true, because…because it is. It's so true. It's just not—not special this way, and I really want it to be special. You deserve special. You hear people talk about love at first sight and I never thought it was real. I know I liked what I saw that day at the college, but really meeting you, and talking to you, and making you laugh, and you managing to make me laugh… that's when it really started. I have been _so_ miserable for months now, like I knew deep down inside all along that something was off with me and Quinn and with what happened with Neytiri. And 8 hours with you was worth more than the thousands of dollars I spent talking to supposed 'grief professionals'." Despite the gravity of the situation, just thinking about that date makes him feel a bit brighter.

"I'm not just saying all this to get you to forgive me. It doesn't work that way. I couldn't stop how I feel even if I wanted to. I just wish that I had found you sooner; it would have saved both of us from a lot of crap. Of all of the stuff that's happened there's only one thing that I'm holding onto, and that's us. We were always going to meet and to be together. I just know it, because there's no other way to explain how I feel…how I, how I hope you feel too. I know even after everything that happened I spent all day thinking about you. If you didn't think about me all day then don't call me back, but if you feel like you're missing something really important, then please call me, because I know what it is you need. I wouldn't be calling you, _begging_ you to take me back if I didn't."

"I'm so sorry. I am _so_-_so_-_so_ sorry to have been such a dumbass. I never meant to be just more pain in your life. Please don't let that stop you from giving me another chance. I'm nowhere near perfect, but I swear I'm gonna make this up to you, i—if you'll just let me. I need you to know that whatever it is you need, whatever it is you want; it's yours. Anything and everything, and I promise…you don't even have to ask, just take me back, and it's yours. I'm just gonna wait."

…

For just a moment Mercedes wakes up with arms around her, slim feminine arms, and she thinks that everything has just been a dream. The best and worst dream ever. Then she remembers why she has to get up so bloody early in the morning. She has to help Santana and Esi. Then she sees the blond hairs on the arm lying across her waist, and her heart clenches in her chest. The arm is light, delicate, and NOT Sam's. A slow fat tear rolls silently from her eye, down her cheek, and to the pillow beneath her head. Brittany rubs her hand on her shoulder and arm, as if she can see the tears even though Mercedes is facing away from her. Puck is the first one to leave the bed. Waking up with 3 hot girls, all of whom he wants to bang, but none of whom he can or will, meant that from now on he was first in the shower every morning. Brittany and Santana are the next ones out of the bed. On their way to the kitchen to make breakfast, Santana peeks at Mercedes, who offers her a weak smile.

"You really should listen to that message."

Mercedes just shakes her head no. Truth be told, she doesn't feel ready to hear that voicemail message, even if it is good news. Crazy, but that's just the kind of mood she woke up in. Lying there on her back alone in that ridiculously large bed Mercedes wonders if she should listen to the message, when she should listen to the message, and why Santana seems extra insistent about it, like she knew something that Mercedes didn't. Unable to figure out Santana's secret, Mercedes begins debating about whether or not she is really ready to leave the warm fold of the blanket. Still rather indecisive about the whole matter, the debate is cut short when Puck suddenly emerges from the shower. Not really wanting to be there when his towel comes off, she quickly makes her way into the bathroom. Once there, she can't even look at her reflection without feeling guilty. Owing it to herself, she makes a mental note to at least listen to the message later, _much later_. As in after she does what it is she has to do. She has to prove to herself that she's still the same person she was a week ago. The same girl who could take a licking and keep on ticking. The same girl who was your best friend but could never really be more. The girl who _still_ didn't believe in fairytales. The girl who didn't wait for her prince to save her, but saved herself.

In her own private Fortress of Solitude, Mercedes could let a bit of the truth leak out. A_ll_ she felt was different. She _did_ believe. Placing her forehead flush against the wet slick tile, she thinks, _Why do I believe? He hung up on me over and over again because he thought I was a gold digging liar…._turning her head so that her cheek was pressing against the tile, she thinks, _but he called me back. He wouldn't have done that if he didn't want to try again, right? Or maybe he called to tell me to lose his number…or maybe he called because he'd calmed down and was ready to talk…Or maybe…_

Until the water runs cold she keeps trying to talk herself out of it and all she manages to do is think in circles, always starting and ending in the same place: Sam. It broke her more than she ever will admit when Sam hung up on her before she could fully explain herself and yet she understood. When she closes her eyes, all she sees is him. She didn't understand, and at the same time everything finally makes sense. Somehow, someway, despite fighting it, hiding from it, and running from it, she's found that one person that made her heart swell. In all of the putrid nasty mess that was her life she had managed to find the person holding the light at the end of the tunnel. The person who was supposed to walk with her the rest of the way. Even as the cool water sprays her body as she formulates a plan for Santana, she knows that at the end of the day she will go back and fix things with Sam. That feeling, the one that she couldn't identify before had to be love. And it wasn't easy to shake once it takes hold.

She loves him, and just maybe he could love her too.

Even with all of that admitted there was still another thing to confess. _I'm being stupid and stubborn. _Because on this day Mercedes Jones will _still _do what she has to do to help her friend, even though doing it could kill any chance she ever had with Sam. Mercedes is at war with herself because all she really wants to do is take out Rick's card and have him take her home. She didn't even know where Sam was at this point, but that didn't matter. Wherever he was, that's where she wanted to be. Everyone saw this, and had been trying since he hung up to push her to go and talk to him, but she refuses to be _that girl_. The one who couldn't do anything for herself, the one who had to run to some man to solve all of her problems. _I never should have brought it up in the first place. It was too much too soon._

Turning off the running water with a final twist of the tap, she can't help but think that with her luck, after he finds out about tonight he may not want her anyway.

* * *

><p><strong>Part Two: #thatbitch!<strong>

**Cha-Ching…**

"Rachel, some suits are here to see you." Dave's hands never stop their wiping actions across the top of the bar with his fresh white cloth.

As per usual, Rachel Berry emerges from behind the long star-studded beaded curtain already smiling. With mock-caution coloring her face, she asks the men jokingly, "You're not detectives here to arrest me for murder are you?"

The man in the black suit with the green tie blanches at her off-color humor. The other man in the pale gray suit and the bright red tie has the audacity to laugh like a creepy uncle. "No, no, no, Mizz Berry I presume?" After Rachel nods, Gray-suit continues. "Well pleasure to meet you." He extends one large reddish hand towards her. As he over enthusiastically pumps her hand up and down, he exclaims, "Good to see you keeping your spirits up."

Pulling back her hand, and not hiding the repeated wiping of her hand on the front of her dress, Rachel asks, "So if you're not detectives, then what are you and why are you here?"

Holding up a finger, Gray-suit produces a flashy business card. Reading the business car, Rachel's frown turns upside down. "Rod…Remington…Talent Manager to the Stars!" Rachel shoots Dave a silent order to bring out drinks for her and her guests as she quickly ushers the friendly Mr. Remington and his silent partner Black-suit to the nearest table. As they settle in, Rachel says, "Well, I have to admit that I always knew that I would be discovered. Of course I had always pictured it happening more dramatically like at a nationally televised baseball game at which the anthem singer falls suddenly ill and I descend from the stands like an angel from heaven to stand at the empty microphone to sing." Black-suit looks at her like she has _at least_ 3 loose screws. Rod is grinning and nodding as if it all makes perfect sense. Ignoring Black-suit and feeling encouraged by Rod, she mutters, "I suppose this is just as nice, right?" _Plink, plink…_Rachel's gaze slides up to Dave, watching as he places the last of their lemon spritzers with fresh lemons on the table. "Thanks Dave."

"No problem, boss lady."

"Well, let me just cut right to the chase. Len here is an insurance guy here to give you your inheritance."

"Inheritance? What inheritance? Who died and left _me_ money?"

Before answering, Len mentally adds another loose screw to Rachel's tally. "Ms. Berry, your _mother_ was recently murdered, and we have already consulted the police and know that you are not responsible. You do remember your mother don't you?"

Waiving her hand in the air at his absurd question, Rachel insists with an airy tone that "Len, _Lenny_, can I call you Lenny?" Not waiting for an answer, she says, "Of course I know that. What I meant to say is that we only recently reconnected before she died, so I find it hard to believe that she had made provisions for me in her will. I mean I know she said that she'd had a change of heart when she adopted Beth, but I guess I didn't understand how deep it went."

Rod nods as if to say 'nice recovery' and Rachel gives him a little wink. Tone crisp, Len replies with, "According to her final will and testament, she was thinking of you for quite a while prior to your one and only meeting."

At this point Rod takes control, horning his way into the conversation. "She hired a private investigator to find you. She tried to figure you out before she met you. Apparently some of your music posted to your MySpace page made her cry. She couldn't believe that even though she had given you up, that somehow you still managed to find the music and were trying to follow in her footsteps. She couldn't help but wonder if she had been there for you, if your dream would have come true."

Rachel looks genuinely touched. "Re—really? She thought that I was talented? That I could be a star?"

"Oh yeah kiddo, one of the brightest. Here, take a listen." From the briefcase he carried, Rod produces a slim old fashioned tape player. He presses play, and suddenly even scattered around the empty bar Dave, Kurt, Brad, and April can hear an eerie duet that Shelby had spliced together of her and Rachel. After listening to a few lines, Rod stops the playback. "She was really impressed with you and I think she was going to ask you to record a song or two with her. She saw it as a way to help her appeal to a younger audience and bring you into the spotlight too. We think that she was planning on surprising you with it. Since Beth was getting a little older, Shelby was going to transition into the consulting business for young hopefuls and promising show choirs, but it had been a while since she'd been in the papers, so to speak. We think that she fancied you as her ticket back."

Drawing back from the odd man, Rachel whines, "So she just wanted to use me?" Kurt doesn't bother to hide his smirk.

Rod does his best Kayneshrug in response. "In a way, but you would have benefited also." _Uhruph._ The man clears his throat awkwardly. "Y—you could still benefit from it. I was your mother's manager and if she's right about your talent, how it rivals even her own, then it would be fitting if I try my best to make your mother's dying wish come true." After taking a wary look around, he leans in close and he whispers loudly, "She wanted you to be a star on Broadway while she helped manage you and run a consulting business in the background. With your inheritance and my know-how, it could still happen."

Like an old school cartoon, Len can literally see the dollar signs and stars roll up and replace Rachel's eyeballs. It was disturbing and it scared him. All he wanted to do was cut her check and run.

Plastering on her widest toothiest grin, Rachel gently places her hands on top of the table and leans forward. "Tell me more…"

**When he has nothing else to do, he does me…**

A bit later that afternoon…

"Kurt, Kurt!"

Kurt's head whipped around so fast Dave thought he was going to snap his neck. "What?" Kurt hissed.

"You need to calm down before you give yourself a stroke or have a heart attack like your dad." Usually when Kurt got like this, reminding him of his dad helped. Hearing what almost sounded like a growl roll through Kurt's lips made Dave see that not even Burt could help this time.

"Calm down? You want me to calm down? Rachel closed the bar indefinitely! How the hell can I calm down? What was she whispering about with those two suits today? Did she even bother to give a reason? NO! She just swept us out of the door like trash. I thought I was her friend and she shut the door in my face and locked it." Kurt is frowning hard and not caring at the moment about future wrinkles, which means that he is angrier and more pissed off than he's ever been save one dark afternoon about a two years earlier. His chest is heaving and he's starting to feel a little dizzy.

"Kurt, her mom just died, cut her some slack man. She's gonna open back up again and you'll get discovered and everything will be okay. You'll see." Dave patted the spot next to him on the couch, trying to get Kurt to sit.

Kurt wants nothing to do with calm. He wants blood. Rachel backstabbing Berry blood. Shaking his head violently enough to cause his hair to actually move, he shouts, "No! She—she is throwing us away David. I have schlepped behind her for almost two years now waiting for us to make it big. _US_ David, not just her! We were supposed to be in this together, and now—now…" The vision in Kurt's eyes begins to blur as large wet tears pool in their corners. Making a _shhhh-shhhh_ sound, David rises from the couch and takes Kurt's hand. Very gently he starts to pull him over to the couch. Wiping the first tears away with the back of his hand, Kurt stammers out, "…now everything is so messed up. What am I going to do without her?"

All Dave can think is,_ What am I gonna do without you? _To Kurt he says, "I don't know, but you're resourceful and I just know that you'll come up with something, you always do." As a distraction, Dave turns on the television.

Big mistake.

"_Jesse St. James here with the exclusive celebrity murder kidnapping scandal that is gripping the nation."_

Dave moves to turn off the television, only to have Kurt smack his hand back down. "I'm here again with local celebrity Rachel Berry, daughter of slain Broadway royalty, Shelby Cochrane." Rachel steps forward and smiles into the camera. "Ms. Berry, I understand that you have an important announcement to make regarding the case."

Grabbing the microphone and positioning herself center frame, Rachel says, "Yes Jesse, yes I do. I wanted my hometown to be the first to learn that my mother's dying wish was to return to Broadway for one last run before retiring in order to help _me_ pursue _my_ Broadway dreams."

From the side of the screen Jesse leans in and asks, "What does that mean for your life here Rachel?"

"Well, thanks for asking. After heated negotiations and emergency auditions, I am pleased to announce that I will fulfill my mother's role obligation in 'Wicked' as Elphaba when the show returns to the stage to celebrate its 10th year in production."

"What of your life here in Lima?"

"Oh, well the time has come for me to move on. Theatre is _obviously_ in my blood. I'll be throwing a goodbye Lima party later this week and then any interested persons looking to own their own bar slash karaoke club should send me their best offer."

Taking the microphone back from Rachel, Jesse smiles awkwardly into the camera. Like a ventriloquist, he says through his grimace, "Anything else Rachel?"

Swishing her bangs across her forehead, Rachel just shakes her head. After clearing his throat, Jesse can be heard whispering, "What about the proceeds from the sale of your bar…where will those go?"

"Oh—oh right. All proceeds generated by the sale of the bar slash karaoke club will go towards the reward being offered for tips leading to the arrest of the person responsible for my mother's death." As Jesse does his outro, Rachel can be seen preening in the background.

Like an erupting volcano, Kurt begins to spew. "That Bitch! How dare she! She's thinks that she's just gonna up and leave me like that? I THINK NOT." Grabbing his keys, he shouts, "I'll be back."

"Kurt! Kurt, come back here. Stop and think about this. Don't go off and do something stupid."

(Too late.)

* * *

><p><strong>Part Three: That's Mercedes Jones under That Bus<strong>

**Just Business…**

Even though he's taken two showers already, under the hard penetrating gaze of Sue Sylvester, Kurt feels dirty. Circling the table like a shark, she drags her fingernail along the top, and as she does the sound of the scraping sends chills up and down Kurt's spine. "Let me get this straight, you are coming forward to claim that you saw Becky _and_ Mercedes in the alley around the time of the shooting?"

"Tha—that's right."

"Why were _you_ in the alley?" Looking at him and through him at the same time, she adds, "You're wearing sequined cropped pants. I don't really picture the alley as _your scene_."

Nonplussed, he responds with, "I was taking a shortcut to the diner and as for coming forward, I'm just doing my civic duty."

Sue's hollow laugh echoes around the room. "Civic duty? Wow. Well, we know Becky was there, but Mercedes too? I find that awfully hard to believe." She begins to wonder just how Ms. Jones really fit into the puzzle. "We're talking about the same Mercedes Jones that is providing part of Puck's alibi." Kurt nods yes. "And the girl who just happens to be one of our CIs?"

"The one and only."

Looking at her web, Sue asks aloud, "Is that why Becky wouldn't give her up, they're friends or something?"

"How in the hell should I know. Last time I checked, you're the detective, not me." Sue cuts her eyes at the young man, but rather then hurling an insult, she smiles.

"You know what I think?"

Disturbed by the grin on the detective's face, very quietly Kurt asks, "What?"

Craning her neck so that she is within striking distance, Sue says, "I think you're pale…porcelain…face wants its 15 minutes. Am I right?" She cocks one eyebrow up at him as she inspects the unbelievable and enviable dewy luster of his skin. "Huh, everybody knows that we caught Becky before she could scurry away. And by all accounts Mercedes was home during the shooting."

Sitting up and using the opportunity to slide away from Sue's donut breath wafting across his skin, Kurt answers with, "Well she was in a hurry to get somewhere when she went by me, nearly knocked me over. And she didn't even say hi." Quietly, Kurt thinks, _The person who did manage to knock me clean over was in an even bigger hurry, but I was too busy wiping the water and other mucks off of my new leather riding boots to really get a good look._ Smirking at his thought, Kurt narrows his eyes at Sue.

Shaking his head, Rory says, "This doesn't make any sense. What's her connection to the victim?"

Both detectives train their eyes on Kurt. "What's in it for me?"

"How about not going to jail for obstruction of justice." Sensing that her threat didn't quite hit home, she adds, "I bet you'd be _real_ popular in lock-up glitter hands, if you get my drift."

Unbelievably, Kurt pales even more. In a rush, he says, "I heard that she's seeing Ken, the baby-mamma-Barbie's husband."

After taking a moment to decipher, Sue finally asks, "You mean Sam Evans?"

"Yeah. I don't know, but maybe she wanted to give him a baby and instead of doing it the old-fashioned way and ruining her girlish figure, she took one. Her _associate's_ baby."

"You can just cut that PC crap. We all know that he's a pimp."

"Well, I prefer associate."

Sue thinks, _It's highly unlikely that she'd really want the wife's baby enough to kill for it and glitter hands is definitely grasping at straws now._ "Okay pretending for a bare moment that maybe your little tale is true, where would she stash the baby? We've already searched her apartment."

Shrugging, all Kurt can say is, "I don't know, but she's friends with everyone. One of them is bound to know."

Although Sue has indicated that the interview is over Rory still asks, "Is she your friend, Mercedes?"

"Yeah, I suppose."

"Then why are you here?"

Smiling pitifully, Kurt says quietly, "Sometimes even after you do everything right, everything can still go very wrong. This, this is just business, she'll understand."

That is the one and only _total lie_ that Kurt tells. Sure, he wants his 15 minutes, but deep down he sets Mercedes out to hang for more traditional reasons: unrequited love and petty jealousy.

**Ooohhhh Fiiinnnnn, you got some 'splainin to do…**

As soon as Kurt leaves, Sue can feel the beginnings of a monster headache. There were still too many pieces to the puzzle and the longer she looked at it, it seemed as if just about everyone had a reason to kill Shelby and/or take little Beth, or that they each personally knew someone else who did. There was one connection that made her stomach turn though. "Rory, it's time to squeeze a pig 'til it squeals."

"Pig, sir?"

"_Officer_ Hudson."

"Oh, _uuuhh_, okay?"

Shaking her head Sue looks at her web and finds it unsettling that a police officer is connected intimately to so many nefarious elements. Even for a dirty cop, he didn't seem to bother anymore with covering his tracks that well. "Finn may be a buffoon, but he's a patient buffoon and he's good at laying low. I mean look at how he's connected to almost all of our suspects directly _and_ he was the first responder in the alley after the murder. The way this investigation has been going, he could wait this whole thing out and we'd never pin anything on him. Let's rattle the giraffe's cage. We'll stuff that pig so full of crap that he'll have to poop."

"And then we'll catch him?"

"Yeah, something like that."

…

A short while later Finn, followed closely by Mike, enters Sue's office. After taking a seat, Sue starts in with the questioning. Sliding a picture across the desk towards Finn, she asks, "She look familiar?"

Duh-face in full effect, Finn answers with, "Of course she does, she's my CI. What's it to you?"

"Did you talk to her about the Cochrane case?"

"Yeah." Finn looks at Mike like Sue has finally flipped her shit and lost it.

Ignoring his looks that questioned her sanity, Sue asks her next question. "Did you make sure that she didn't kill her first?"

"No. Mercedes isn't a killer, now I wouldn't put it past that J Hoe she lives with, but not her."

"Huh…" Finn looks at Sue, just now starting to think that something was up. "How did you know not that your CI was in the alley when Shelby was shot?" Finn looks confused. He can't tell if Sue is blowing smoke up his ass or if she's telling the truth. Either way he's not going to bite. Sue flips her board over revealing the case web. Donut!cop gets a connection to Santana Lopez. "Who else up here do you know?"

Seeing that he could only lie but so much, Finn goes for the easy answer. "Becky, any cop that works near that neighborhood knows Becky."

Another line is added. "Who else?" Impatiently Sue taps another photo with her marker. "Did you know Puck before you tossed his apartment for me? I mean you know J Hoe and Hot Chocolate, I bet you know Puck too, right?"

Playing dumb, which is not too hard, Finn says, "Like Becky, I've seen him around on patrols."

"_Seen him around_?" Sue is mocking him. "Just around?" Crossing her arms over her chest, bullshit look firmly in place she presses with more questions. "You never arrested him or searched his place before?"

"Nah." Finn looks her dead in the eye while Mike drops his eyes to his hands resting on the table.

Sneering, Sue asks, "How did you not know that your CI's domicile is with the missing baby's estranged biological father?"

Finn looks as if he was stuck on the big words that Sue is using. "Huh?"

Rory offers up, "Mercedes lives with Beth's baby-daddy, Puck." Sue glares at Rory, her bluster temporary replaced by surprise. "What, I've picked up some of…the… ummm, nevermind."

Refocusing on Finn once again, Sue says, "I cannot believe that we would give a gun and a badge to someone as incapable as you."

Cocking his head to one side, a chuckling Finn answers with, "Sticks and stones bitch, sticks and stones."

"We'll see who the bitch is by the time I'm done with you. Sue Sylvester is nobody's bitch. The more I look at the evidence and the people involved, the more it seems like you're everyone's bitch." There is now a visible tick in Finn's lower jaw. Sarcastically she says, "Clearly Mercedes is the greatest CI ever, so I guess that you also didn't know that Puck just happened to meet with the victim not a half an hour before she was shot?" The way Finn's eyes go wide let Sue know that Finn did not know. Either Jones was behind this, or she knew too that Finn couldn't be trusted.

"Now that I didn't know. I've only talked to Mercedes the one time since the shooting and that was right after we left the scene. Maybe she didn't put all of that together until later." Finn gives Mike a hard look, prompting the rookie to whip out a little notebook and make a note to talk to Mercedes, again.

"Unh-huh, whatever you need to tell yourself caveman." Sue sniffs the air while fanning herself dramatically. She looks over at Rory. "Is it getting hot in here or is it just me?" Mike shifts nervously in his seat, looking at Finn out of the corner of his eye. "In fact, I think I smell bacon." Finn scratches the end of his nose with his middle finger. Sue smiles hungrily. "Explain this _officer,_ how did you not know that your CI is dating the biological mother's husband?"

"What?"

Again Rory supplies, "Baby-mama's boo is that blonde fellow up there on the board with the large lips."

Finn sees the photo of blondie from the diner on the wall. Sue can tell that Finn at least recognizes Sam. "Don't tell me that you know him too?"

"No."

The way Finn is grinding his teeth in his mouth, makes Sue cackle, sending errant bits of spittle flying into Finn's face. "Let me guess, your CI denied knowing him right? Just like she conveniently forgot to tell you that your friendly neighborhood pimp is Beth's father. Ya'know, the same pimp who took the victim out to lunch before she died."

Finn feels stupid, more stupid than usual. Somehow he'd ended up with the best and the worst CI ever. Mercedes was connected, and when none of those connections led to people that she cared for, she was helpful. Otherwise she had no problem lying to Finn or withholding information. He knows that she knew since dinner a few nights ago that Beth and Puck were connected. She didn't trust him to figure it all out, and normally she was right. Normally, he either didn't really care or he had no clue, but this case is different. Finn knows Becky, Matt, Mercedes, and Puck personally so he knows how Becky, Matt, Mercedes, and Puck are connected. If he wasn't dirty, he'd be the best chance Sue has to cracking the case. The dismal look evaporates from Finn's face. Smiling over the fact that he has one up on the Great Sylvester, Finn asks, "Are you internal affairs?"

"No."

"Am I under arrest?"

"I'm gonna cautiously say '_Not yet_'."

Pushing himself away from the table, Finn says, "Then you can talk to my union rep if you need to get a hold of me in the future. You're awfully hostile towards a fellow officer aren't you? Maybe you're worried that I'll figure it all out before you do, seeing as how I know everyone on that wall that matters."

Sue can tell that Finn has just figured something out. Maybe not the whole enchilada, but definitely something that she doesn't see yet. It bugs her, but it also confirms that she is on the right track. "Just who are they, the ones that matter?"

Standing, Finn says, "Ya'know, I'm not really feeling the love right now, so I'm just gonna keep that to myself."

Sue looks at Officer Chang. "Any comment from the sesame seed gallery?"

"No ma'am."

Sue narrows her eyes. "You sure about that? This is the only chance you'll ever get with me."

Everything in his head is screaming NO, but all he says as he stands with Finn is, "Yes ma'am, I'm sure."

Once they are out the door, Rory asks, "What now?"

"Mercedes Jones. She's connected to every single person in this case and if Porcelain was right and she was in that alley, then either she's our killer or she knows who is."

Less than a week on the job and Rory is already beginning to read Sue. "You don't think she did it do ye?"

"No, but I think she knows who did."

"Sir, why is she protecting the person who killed Shelby and kidnapped Beth?"

Looking at her web one last time, Sue says, "Million dollar question Irish, million dollar question. C'mon, let's go talk to Chief Goolsby about his stray pig and wolf in pig's clothing."

Frowning, Rory simply follows Sue, saying, "Okay, you're the boss."

* * *

><p><strong>Part Four: Strip-a-palooza <strong>

"C'mon, don't be silly, Roz and I have a killer 'Bootylicious' routine all planned." Looking up at Sandy, and then all the way down the drag queen's body to her platform shoes, Will shakes his head no firmly. "But I thought tonight was a benefit strip for Santana and we wanna help."

"Look I understand that you, uh, _ladies_ want to help, but we tried that once before and it did not go so well. Go and talk to April. She's letting Rachel sing and keep her clothes on while some of the other girls dance. Maybe you could sing and let some of the others handle the booty poppin."

Pointing one acrylic nailed claw at Will, Roz opens her mouth, and through wide, flashing teeth says, "Uh-uh, I know you aren't trying to say that mah booty ain't poppin." Executing a half turn, she thrusts her hip in Will's direction while smacking herself on the rump. "Look, I can see you looking, or more like leering. Why can't I dance too?" Leaning in towards Will, she purrs, "I'm _multi_-talented." Stepping back, she says, "I know Sandy got that skinny white girl booty, but still, The Dagger's got heart. Besides, I don't see anyone else lining up to help."

"Actually…" Will points out of his open office towards the lounge area where almost every girl who worked in the Glee Club could be seen milling around. "They're all here to help out Santana."

Swiveling her neck, Roz asks, "For why? That Santana is more like Satan. Why they hell are all those girls dancing for that crusty bitch?"

Eyes narrowing, Will says slowly, "Technically, it's for Esi and despite being hardass, Santana's loyal. She'd do the same for them, she'd hate it, but she would."

"And _all_ the money from tonight is going to her?" Will nods his head. "So even if I could somehow convince you to give us a chance, we wouldn't get to keep the fruits of our labors?" Will nods again. "Oh hell no." Roz turns the curved nail on Sandy. "Sandy, you did not tell me that _all_ the money would go to J Hoe, that ain't right. I don't sweat for free and you know it." Roz folds her arms across her chest as she glares at Sandy.

"Maybe this wasn't a good idea."

"Maybe?" Roz can be heard whining at Sandy as they walk away. "How about definitely."

"Ladies…" April greets the two drag queens with a wide smile as she passes them on her way in to talk to Will. For her troubles she gets an eyeroll form Roz and a quasi-apologetic smile from the Pink Dagger. Coming over to Will all a bluster, she says, "Well, what on earth has crawled up their butts that has them all worked up?"

"Not me, that's for damn sure."

April openly cackles at Will. For all his outward lecherous tendencies, he was harmless and faithful. "I know, let me guess, they wanted to strip for charity."

"Correct."

"And you let them down gently?"

"Correct again."

"They didn't want to sing if they couldn't go full monty?" She waggles her eyebrows at him.

Will almost doesn't want to make eye contact with April. Only she could make him blush. "That's right; they were too good to just sing."

Shrugging, April says, "Bygones. I hope they never need a favor like this someday. We all are taking note about who is here and who's not. _And_, who just trotted out in their 6 inch sparkly platforms." Will gives her a look, and she adds, "Oh I know Roz was the ringleader, but at some point Sandy has got to learn that she keeps crap company."

She pushes Will down into a lounge chair, and sits on his lap. "So in the world of better news, Tina will help collect and count the money since you know her mama and Artie will be guarding the lock box during the show. Between the blades and the bullets, I think it's okay. I'm still worried about getting it out of here and someplace safe with Lima's finest proving themselves to be a bunch of douche bags though. I'll never understand how they can all stand behind such a dirty twat like Finn. They know he took that money and none of them are willing to come here off-duty to help. We are still putting on a show and you'd think they wouldn't turn down free T&A."

"I know I wouldn't, but I think they don't turn on their own. Even Artie still doesn't want to believe it and he hasn't been a cop in years."

…

_CRACK_-_CraCK_

With an expert flick of their wrists, Brittany and Santana trade whip cracks from opposite ends of the stage. Coiling the long leather rope round and round in her hands, Santana walks over to face Mercedes, joining Brittany on her side of the stage. "Mercedes, you have to sing something _HOT_ and this song screams sex, sex, sex, which means loose wallets, which means that Esi can stay in school for another semester."

Practice is not going well. Mercedes let Santana pick the song figuring that she could sing just about anything and the dancing would be the hard part. "No Santana, this song makes me feel nasty. Whips and chains are not my idea of fun." Mercedes is already uncomfortable being onstage for the first time, and under the spotlight, but having to sing a song about pain being her pleasure…_Santana must be crazy._ "Santana, there is nothing pleasurable about being beaten. I know a lot of people are into it, but I can't go there. I got too much real pain that I'm trying to ignore."

"Well—well then pick another song."

"What?"

"I don't know; I _already_ picked a song."

Mercedes gives Santana an exaggerated eyeroll, which is returned quite quickly by the other girl. Less than 2 hours til show time and now they needed a whole new song and props to go with it. Brittany speaks up. "Think about something that brings you pleasure."

"Sam." Mercedes reaches out to whack Santana on the arm for answering in her place. The Latina sticks her tongue out at her. "Look at me and tell me I'm lying?"

"You're lying."

"Sound like you at least mean it." Mercedes fights the smile threatening to spread across her face. "That's what I thought. You know that boy called you 4 times because he knows that he was a big dipshit for hanging up on you. Did you listen to the message?"

Mercedes shakes her head no.

"Why not?"

Shrugging, Mercedes answers honestly with, "We've been so busy trying to get ready for your benefit strip-a-palooza that I never got a chance."

Slinking over to her, oozing lust, Santana whispers, "So Mercy, what's your pleasure?"

Watching Santana move like that brings heat to Mercedes' face. To hide her excitement and to think of a good answer, she closes her eyes. _All roads lead to Sam. _Opening her eyes, she is met with Santana's warm breath on her cheek. Mercedes can see Brittany peeking over Santana's shoulder, awaiting her answer. "I've got it." After sharing with them her new idea, instead of looking relieved, Brittany looks sad. "What's wrong Brittany, we get to use more sparkles instead of chains. I thought you'd like that; I know I do."

"I do, but will I still get to use the trapeze swing?" Brittany had a wealth of hidden talents that Will couldn't wait to exploit. Santana nods eagerly at her girlfriend. "Good, then we're gonna need a second mic for my rap."

Mercedes looks at Santana. Brittany said a lot of things that didn't always make sense the first time, because usually you couldn't take her literally. From behind the girls' a male voice can be heard saying, "Uh _no_ Rainbow Brite, I'm doing the Kayne rap." All three turn to look as Puck saunters over.

Looking at him, but not, Mercedes asks quietly, "You heard all that?"

"Yeah, I know I ain't your pleasure, cuz I was hoping for something about a dinosaur." He shrugs noncommittally, but adds a wink of one of his hazel eyes. Turning back to Brittany, he iterates, "I'm doing the rap blondie."

"No you're not. I was once Ke$ha for Halloween and I rapped all night long. I got 10 times as much candy as all my friends. If I can master Ke$ha, then I know I can take down Kanye." Rather than get aggressive with Puck, Brittany sticks out her pout-lip and turns it on Mercedes.

Puck also turns to look at Mercedes to choose. Santana is still stuck on Britts as Ke$ha. Holding up both hands in defense, Mercedes shakes her head. "No. I don't think so. I'm not gonna pick Brittany and have Puck feel like he got punked by the new girl."

"Or you could call it _another_ blonde snaking me outta something." (Yeah play tough guy Noah, and the guilt card, play that too!)

Cutting her eyes at Puck, Mercedes continues. "And I'm not gonna pick Puck and have to deal with a depressed Brittany and a homicidal Satan."

"She ain't lying." Santana has finally joined the conversation, nodding her head in agreement with Mercedes.

Wide-eyed, Brittany asks, "So what are we gonna do?"

…

Taking one long pull on her cigarette, Holly at least has the decency to blow the smoke out of the side of her thin, dry mouth instead of blowing it in Santana's face. "Here, this is for you." She shoves a white envelope into Santana's hands who in turn opens it and gets immediately bug-eyed. "It's everything from this week. Take it. I'd just spend it all on booze anyway." Side-eyeing April, she adds, "I drink almost as much as that tramp." Hearing her name, April swerves around in a wobbly circle and joins the other two women.

Opening her mouth for some snappy retort, April thinks about it and instead grabs the envelope from Santana. "Whatever, money's money. I'll drop this off with Artie and Mama C-Chang to watch." Holly Holiday can't hide the spurt of jealousy she has for the other woman. At one time Holly was the apple of Will's eye. That is before April gave him the money to open up the Glee Club all those years ago. Catching the look in Holly's eye, April leaves by saying, "And I would tell you that there's no smoking in here, but then what would you have to look forward too?"

Holly takes another drag and wanders off in a puff of smoke to the dressing room. Santana shouts thanks, and spins around to find Mercedes.

_Holy crap, that's a lot of people. More than I've ever seen before at the Glee Club. _Mercedes clutches her stomach and holds onto a rail for support. Behind the curtain, she waits to go on feeling as though she is going to lose her late lunch.

Coming over, Santana lays her palm across Mercedes' forehead. "Ohh, you don't look so good."

Wearily, Mercedes looks at the girl and shakes her head. "I don't know if I can do this. Every time I peek out into the audience I just feel sicker and sicker. There are so many people out there and…I don't want to let you down, but I think I'm gonna be sick." Brittany rubs her back, trying to make her feel better. "How do you do it?"

Santana is no help at all. "I don't get nervous."

Puck offers up, "I picture the audience in their underwear. Dumb but effective." The very thought gives Mercedes the heebie-jeebies. There were dudes pushing 60 out there that haven't seen a gym since they were in their 20's. They could keep their clothes on, thank you very much. Mercedes dry heaves and shakes her head no.

Rachel can be heard belting out some Marilyn Monroe piece while blonde wigged strippers gyrated around her. They were on next.

"Well it's my first time on stage too, but I will only be looking at Santana and a sparkly spot on the back wall that kinda looks like fairy kisses." Okay, oddly enough the pixie watcher gives her the best advice. She'd sing to…Sam. Or at least pretend she was singing to him. In her head he's in the front row, getting a very private performance. That way she didn't have to think about the creepy looks they'd be getting from the audience.

A bright, red-lipped Rachel is now behind the curtain with them. Dressed as a pin-up girl, Puck arches his eyebrow appreciatively and offers her his arm as she makes her way past the three girls down the back stairs. Before 'helping' Rachel anymore, Puck asks, "Cedes, you okay?"

Smiling, she says, "I'll live."

Patting Rachel's hand resting on his forearm, he says, "Knock'em dead."

…(note for this performance ONLY sections in _italics are Mercedes Samtasy POV_.)

The lights drop, and a special black light illuminates the stage. All that can be seen are highlight points, streaks, and shapes outlining Mercedes standing behind the microphone. There are glowing streaks in her hair, others marking her eyelids, lips, the outline of her breasts in her 'futuristic' looking dress (which is doing a fabulous job lifting, accenting, and dipping in all of the right places), and her hips and backside. With the lights down, Brittany and Santana can't be seen.

Mercedes feels alone and on display like some freak show on the stage. She fears that her voice will fail her, that she will fail Santana. Listening to the music building, she closes her eyes, and when she opens them instead of the twinkle of 400 stranger's eyes reflecting back at her, she sees one lit table. She sings to that table and that table alone.

_He's leaning in on one elbow waiting expectantly for the show to begin, drumming his fingers on the table, already eager._

"You're so hypnotizing; Could you be the devil? Could you be an angel?"

At the opening lines of the song Brittany skitters out onto the stage. With the lights down, she is marked by a long unbroken highlight that runs down her sides, only the flesh on the side the audience can see. There are also a few jaunty streaks of the same glowing greenish paint in her hair. She is moving in an oddly seductive halting and jerky rhythmic fashion, as if she's a bird or some other delicate fluttery creature. Santana emerges during the next line. Her markings are different than Brittany's with striping illuminating her hips, backside, and going across the curve of her collarbone and breasts. There is nothing halting or jerky about her movement across the stage. She is languid and lithe like a predatory cat as she slinks in time to the music across the stage, dropping lower and lower as she slides toward the other girl.

_He's smiling, not even looking at the topless server placing a drink on the empty napkin. He never takes his green eyes off of her as she sways behind the microphone. His hand fumbles around blindly for the glass, nearly knocking it over before finally wrapping his fingers around the cup. His lids drop to half-mast as he tips his head back to down the contents in one long sip. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand hungrily._

"You're from a whole 'nother world; A different dimension; You open my eyes; And I'm ready to go; Lead me into the light…"

She and Brittany look at each other as if they are seeing their reflections for the first time. Santana is hunting and she will eat Brittany before the performance is through. (And Brittany will love every second of it.)

Slowly more lights come up and the stage is bathed in an eerie glow. Swaying to the music, offstage, Will starts up the smoke machine and the girls are engulfed in the light mist. Santana produces a rod like 'weapon' and then the _Avatar_ blue paint starts flying. With a flick of her wrist, Brittany is splattered by a well aimed ball of paint across her cheek. She wipes it away with the back of her hand and begins to run from the hunter. This involves lots of swirling around the center pole, still in place for the performance. And somehow as she runs, she loses her top revealing more conveniently placed glow paint. Being who and what she is, Brittany drops into the mist and rises back up in full defense mode. She comes at Santana in a glowing blue and flesh colored blur. Everywhere she touches the other girl leaves behind dazzling sparkles. (And of course, in the ensuing tussle Santana loses her top too.)

_Running…He's running the palms of his hands up and down his thighs, he's running his tongue over his bottom lip, he_'s_ running his hands through his hair in an effort to keep his excitement at bay. To no avail, he's caught._

"Kiss me, ki-ki-kiss me; Infect me with your love and; Fill me with your poison; Take me, ta-ta-take me; Wanna be a victim; Ready for abduction…"

Although Brittany puts up a 'decent' fight, it is clear that Santana is more aggressive and, to the delight of the mesmerized audience, she will eventually fall under the mercy of the dark haired huntress.

It's like watching a kinky blue mudfight, except these two women are fit and acrobatic. Brittany puts her cheerio past to good use as she flips, slips, twists, and zips around the stage wearing only the various paints and sparkles. But the end has come. Santana is circling, moving in closer and closer to Brittany now backed up like a hostage against the pole. At the last second Brittany turns and jumps up onto the pole. While executing a full split she pulls herself up to the top where she transfers to a dangling trapeze bar that had gone unnoticed up until that point. (Off to the side Will hits a switch that lowers the pole below the stage).

Flying through the mists on her bar, trailing a long silken rope, Brittany begins to taunt the huntress Santana below. Even with the aide of two small trampolines hidden on the stage launching her in blue-sparkle-fleshed arcs, Santana cannot reach Brittany. She falls, naked and splattered into the mists of defeat.

"This is transcendental; On another level; Boy, you're my lucky star; I wanna walk on your wave length; And be there when you vibrate; For you I'll risk it all…All…"

To the surprise of the audience, Brittany wraps herself in the rope and falls from the bar, spiraling down the length of it to the stage into Santana's waiting arms.

_He shifts in his seat, adjusting his pants as he does, completely aroused and trying to sit comfortably through the rest of the show._

"…Extraterrestrial"

The lights drop again, and all that can be seen are the stripes of the two girls glowing, moving, grinding, and weaving back and forth along the base of the stage in the rapidly clearing mist.

The Samtasy dissolves and Mercedes is returned with a shock to the center stage of the packed Glee Club.

After the last note fades, the light show stops, and Brittany and Santana disengage because they remember that it's a show and about 200 people are watching them make out, you could hear a mouse fart. The silence is unreal.

_Clap…..clap….clap._

Slowly the applause builds to a deafening roar that includes shouts, hoots, hollers, stomping feet, and whistles. And a downpour of sweaty bills. As quickly as possible Mercedes does and little bow and slips back behind the curtain. After one final smooch with Santana, Brittany joins her.

Into the microphone, a grateful Santana mutters a quick thank you to everyone for coming before she too leaves the stage

(Although Will and Big Bubba checked for recording devices, tossing hardheads as needed, Honey Badger was there, taping the whole thing on her phone for Quinn.)

…

"What the fuck do you want? You try and take anymore of my money and I will gut you where you stand." Despite being mostly covered in blue paint, sparkles, and pretty much nothing else, Santana reaches for her hair.

"I'm here to help. Honest." He holds out his hand to her. She makes him wait as she pulls on a loose robe.

"What's this?"

"It's my share of the money Finn took. I didn't know and it's not like I can do anything about it, but when I heard what the money was really for…I couldn't stand by and do nothing. So please, just take it back."

Santana starts flipping through the roll of bills Mike offered. "This ain't my money. My money glows. This looks and smells like it just came out of the ATM around the corner."

_Unbelievable, my cover is gonna get blown by a stripper. _"It's complicated, but I can't give you what was stolen. I replaced it all though, and it's completely legit."

"Oh I knows money when I sees it, it's just odd that's all." She gives Mike a long and searching look. "Thanks. And it would be good if you could help us take the money someplace safe after I get some of this extra paint cleaned off. I'll shower later." She points with her head to the back room where Artie and Mama C-Chang were watching the money. Before Mike disappears behind the door, she says, "This don't mean that I trust you, but that you gots potential."

Mike goes into the back room, and is met with a very sharp cleaver blade pressed against his neck and the click of a gun being cocked. The small voice of a very diminutive older Asian woman speaks into his ear. "You did not use the secret knock. What we gonna do with him Artie?"

Before Artie can answer, Santana, who does use the secret knock, pokes her head into the room. "He's cool." Before disappearing behind the door, she tells Mike with an evil glint in her eye, "_That's_ for taking my money in the first place." Artie lowers his gun, and reluctantly Mama C-Chang lowers her cleaver from Mike's carotid.

"Whew, so glad Pretty Demon Blade came to your rescue." She punches Mike playfully on the arm. "It would have really broken my heart to have had to kill you." The older woman starts laughing with such gusto that she eventually ends up doubled over the desk. Artie nods in agreement.

Mike is not amused.

…

"Will you get off of me?" There is a slurred edge of exasperation coloring April's voice as she slides off of the high backed chair she was sitting in for the majority of the benestrip event. Her companion is reticent to let her slip away. Standing up, she says, "Good grief, I let you buy me a drink and for your troubles you got to nibble at my neck, now buzz off. You've distracted me long enough. I have business to take care of." April tries to disengage her arms from those of one very persistent Josh Groban. She is beginning to look annoyed with him. She's been disinterested and distracted since that out of this world performance by Mercedes, Santana, and Brittany. Swinging an empty tequila bottle over her head as she fights her way against the crowd, she shouts out to those in her path, "Move or lose it boys, mama's got money to make!"

Hot on her heels, Josh answers with, "But I have money."

Coming to a sudden full stop, April spins on him, twice. "Honey, I don't want your money. I just discovered Lima's next big thing." Josh reaches out a steadying hand to prevent a third revolution. Frowning, April looks down at his hand on her forearm. "Unhand me cretin!" She pulls her arm free and continues to use the ghost of Senõr Patron to clear her path.

Bobbing and weaving to avoid the swinging bottle, Josh continues to chase her. "Come on. I know you want me and you're just my type." He looks at his bodyguard to help him persuade the tipsy but standoffish cougar.

Having finally made it backstage, April places two fingers between her lips and blows. A shrill whistle rings out. Big Bubba and Will materialize at her side, apparently out of thin air. Looking from April to the other bodyguard, who could be his brother, then to Josh, he asks, "Everything okay boss?"

"Problems dear?" Will chimes in, a breath behind Big Bubba.

Grabbing Will's hand while fixing Josh with a harsh stare, April replies, "I'm fine sweetie, I was just wondering if either of you know where Mercedes disappeared to?"

Big bubba supplies, "She ran straight home." This causes April to drops Will's hand in alarm. "I think she was embarrassed about how good she was? If that makes any sense. I don't know for sure, but she said that she needed a good long shower and that she still felt like she was gonna be sick."

"Bubba's right on the money. Cedes flew outta here like a bat outta hell not even 2 minutes ago. I saw dat ass leave through that door with my own eyes." April narrows her eyes at Will, but rather than be annoyed that he was watching, she just smiles and shakes her head.

"Maybe if I hurry I can catch her?" April gives him a genuinely grateful look. "Well baby, pray that I do, because I'm gonna make her a star Will. She's gonna be even brighter than I ever was, you just wait." She pulls him closer, placing a quick peck on his cheek. "More where that came from later. R_eowwwwww_." She pulls away from her husband and turns.

Side-eyeing Josh, Will whispers back, far too loudly, "Hurry back, tonight's show has got me raring to go, if you catch my drift." She gives him a lewd smile before bolting out of the back door.

Will's gaze slides back over to Josh. "You should go. There are plenty of drunk cougars out there. That one is taken."

…

"Mer…Mer…." April almost stops running, finding it practically impossible to breathe, run, and shout at the same time. "Mercedesssss!"

Mercedes stops in her tracks and turns around. As she does a wheezing April jogs to her side. "April? Is everything alright?"

"Girl no. I'mabout to drop dead. Lord you walk fast." Making an exaggerated show of wiping her brow, April rests her forehead on Mercedes' shoulder exhaling loudly. "I need a drink." Standing up straight, she concedes, "I probably should cut back on the drinking since that little sprint almost gave me a heart attack!" Trying to laugh only sets off another round of wheezing hacks.

"April what did you need to tell me so bad that you couldn't just call me?"

"I heard that you were screening your calls."

Mercedes hell-to-the-no face appears. "I'm gonna kill that girl."

Waving off the look, April continues. "Besides, news like this should be told in person." She pauses for dramatic effect. "Mercedes Jones, I'm gonna make you a star!"

"Huh?"

"Honey we had to call the fire department because you just burned that stage down. Shit, no body else wanted to go on after you. We shut down early, and moved the party to Rachel's." Swaying only slightly, she continues, "But I digress. With me as your manager, you could go far."

Cocking her head to the side, Mercedes asks, "How far you talking?"

"Try 'I would like to dedicate this first Grammy win to my Manager April Rhodes for pulling me off of the streets and into her studio'. Is that far enough for you?"

Suddenly bashful, Mercedes backs away. "No, not me. I know we did pretty good, but people came to see the skinny girls without their clothes on, not…not me."

"Trust me; they were all watching you too. Even I got a little tingle in my ladyparts!" Seeing the look on Mercedes' face, April adds, "TMI? Honey I don't care, it's the damn truth." Sighing, and reigning in her booziness, she says, "In all seriousness, your voice is magic. I know that I'm a washed up old drunk, but I know talent when I see it and you have the right attitude to make it work. Just let me help you."

"I—I don't know."

"Let's start small? How about you agree to do a few songs on weeknight with Santana and some of the other girls to help you get comfortable performing. Then we'll see about getting you a song of your own to sing." Mercedes still looks wary. "I know you need a job because you are one shitty hoe."

Mercedes' laugh rings out into the night. "You got that right." Taking just the briefest of moments more to consider April's offer, Mercedes agrees. "I suppose that it's time I earned an honest living."

"You run on home and get cleaned up. Just stop by the club when you're ready to start." April leaves wondering aloud if she can convince Brittany to come and do that trapeze act once a week. _Between her and Mercedes I can retire by 35 before I get all old and fugly._

…

Brown and blue. Brown and blue. Finally, just brown. Mercedes watches the last bit of paint swirl down the drain, leaving just her behind. _Santana was right. God that boy has got me sprung and I ain't fooling anybody. _She knows deep down that she's not really over him. Yes, she's afraid that they may never work out, but that is just a chance she'll have to take. They now have enough money to cover Esi's tuition without her crossing that line with Sam. Not that she was going to ask him for money in the first place. Something tells her that if had given her a chance to explain, he'd have given her the money. But she doesn't want money. She just wants him. _Was Santana right? Did he call because he was sorry and wanted to give us another chance? God I hope so. I suppose that I'll never know if I don't listen to that message. Am I ready to listen to that message?_

After one long, hot shower, Mercedes decides that she is ready.

…

She listens to the message about 50 times. Then she spends some time screaming into her pillow. _He loves me. He said that he loves me. He loves me. He loves mehelovesmehelovesme. _Over and over again she repeats that phrase until it becomes one continuous statement. She has to go and see him, to let him know that she feels the same way. To just be with him. Catching sight of her pajamas and freshly washed hair in the mirror, she decides that love could wait an hour or two while she made herself more presentable. Finally ready, at approximately 9:00 pm, Mercedes flies out of the bedroom and heads straight for the front door. With a 'gotta go' flung over her shoulder to her smiling roommates, she unbolts the door and whips it open, only to run head-long into a sneering Detective Sue Sylvester and a grim faced Detective Flannigan.

"Evening, aren't you all gussied up and ready to go. Perfect, I hate it when the _murder suspects_ make me wait. Lucky Charms, give her the bracelets to complete her outfit."

* * *

><p><strong>End Notes:<strong>

Well, well, well….I wouldn't make Mercedes the killer, would I? *laughs evilly and strokes fluffy white cat a-la Cee Lo Green on The Voice*

I guess we'll just have to find out when Sue hauls Mercedes in for questioning in **Ch 9: S h i t Hits the Fan**. And she's not the only one with _prob-lems. _Karma will bite Kurt in his porcelain butt, and now spooked by Sue himself, Finn will try to figure out whodunit by going after the only person he can, Becky. _AND_ we'll get to see what happens when Quinn shares her little homemade movie in a room full of divorce lawyers and Sam. Yeah, it _does not_ quite go as planned, that's all I'm saying.

Mercy ended up picking Katy Perry's 'E.T.' over Rihanna's 'S&M'. I know, **IAT**, I asked you ages ago to use that ET song in a fic (and I think you agreed?), but this opportunity seemed fitting. :)

I have this ridic head-canon where Brittany fancies herself a rapper (essentially since BIOTA). Think about it, that is why she banned hair gel at the prom. That B.o.B. 'Airplanes' rap at Regional's should have been hers and not Blaine's. You think she's dumb, but I think she's crafty when crossed!

(Did you see how I had Bubba Swayze his way in? Did you? …& I know Roz is a lady, but I couldn't help it. Sandy needed a friend and she fit the bill.)

Must use: Twat for Jadziwine (as well as Josh Groban, but sorry dear heart, no bitter celebrity smex for April in this fic). The rest are in the queue. We are officially halfway there, and I need more. Send me more!

Thanks for reading and I hope that you liked it!


	10. CH 9: S H I T hits the Fan

**CH 9: Shit Hits The Fan**

**Dear Readers: So, sorry for the longish break in updating, life, you know. Thank you for sticking with me, and for the reviews, alerts and favorites. Remember, the warnings are in ch 1/2. Maybe you should review them just to be on the safe side.**

* * *

><p><strong>Introduction: The rousing conclusion to a very long day. Like the title implies, a lot of things are about to go wrong. But, Sam and Mercedes will end up together at the end of this one (:<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Part One: Puppet Master<strong>

**Things Are Not Quite What They Seem…**

"Hold up, you're not taking Cedes anywhere in the middle of the night without me. You think flashing a badge around here means something? All of y'all are crooked asses. For all I know you're working for Finn. I'm tired of just bending over and taking his shit."

Out loud Sue says, "I could take you in just for the attitude alone Funbags." Internally however, she sees that Finn is an even bigger problem than she or apparently Chief Goolsby knew. The outraged Latina truly thought that Finn was capable of kidnapping and intimidation.

Santana gives Sue the finger and comes to stand beside a handcuffed Mercedes. "I'm coming with."

"You want me to arrest you too?"

She shakes her head. "Cedes isn't under arrest; you didn't read her her rights. You're probably just going to ask her some questions."

_Huh… "_Behind those boobs lurks a brain. Are you coming because you don't want her to nark on you?"

Santana gives Sue her stank-face. "No. I didn't kill anybody, Lord knows I don't want Puck's baby…no offense Puck."

_None taken…_

"And I _knows_ that Cedes didn't do it either."

"Fine, you can come along." Santana almost trips over the words that were about to leave her mouth. Sue didn't really put up much of a fight. "You gonna take off her cuffs?"

"No."

Before Santana can fire off another word bomb, Puck cuts in with, "San, it'll be fine. She's just doing her job. Trust me, she's not like Finn."

"You aren't the best judge of character. You trust matt and he's a dick." Santana dares him with her eyes to disagree.

"_Trusted M_att. I don't anymore." Not after his conversation with Mercedes the previous day that is.

Rory let's slip, "Matt Rutherford?" And he shrinks back just as quickly as Sue hisses at him.

San shakes her head, "Yeah, what's it to you? He a suspect too?" Shooting a look at Puck, she mutters, "Figures." Louder she says, "Alright let's go, my girl has some place to be." She snaps her fingers in Sue's face. "İVamos!"

Sue snaps her teeth as if she's about to take a bite. "I'm in charge here, not you. Lucky Charms, pat her down before she gets into my car."

"Sure thing sir." Looking at Santana he asks the standard, "Do you have anything that could poke stick or prod me in your pockets or on your personage?"

Pouring enough heat into her face to redden Rory's cheeks, she says, "Touch me and find out."

Seeing as how Sue and Mercedes were already out of earshot, Rory points down the hall and says, "Please just go, and don't do something stupid that you'll regret. Or more likely that I'll regret."

Patting down a stray hair on top of her head, Santana smiles innocently and says, "I wouldn't dream of it." Walking out to the squad car with Rory, she asks, "You don't really think Cedes did this do you?"

Glancing about again to see if Sue is looking, and seeing that she's not, he whispers, "No, but we think she knows more than she's letting on."

"Like what? She woulda told me if she did. Honest. We want Beth back safe just as much as you guys do. That's Puck's little girl."

Checking again for Sue, Rory whispers, "We know."

"Then why the cuffs?"

Shrugging, he answers with, "Not my show. I mostly just follow orders." Puzzled, Santana slides into the back seat beside Mercedes.

…

Sam takes a deep breath and counts to 3 before answering his ringing cell.

"Quinn, it's 9:00 at night, can't we just meet at the lawyers office tomorrow?" Frustrated does not even begin to describe how Sam is feeling. This is not the woman he wanted to be talking to.

He can hear the sickening smile on her face. "I thought you'd be more eager to be done with me."

"Fine. If this ends it, then meet me there in half an hour."

"Can you send Rick to come and get me? I'm at Honey Badger's."

"No."

Saccharinely sweet, Quinn says, "Sam you had my car repo-ed. How am I supposed to get there?"

Through clenched teeth, after an overly long pause, Sam says, "Fine, I'll send him over."

…

"Rick I need you to pick up Quinn from her cousin's place and bring her over to my lawyers." Sam is taken aback by Rick's refusal. Rick quickly explains. "What do you mean you're at Mercedes?"

"She called maybe 10 minutes ago. I got here as fast as I could, but she hasn't come down yet. Maybe she changed her mind? I don't have her number, can you call her?"

…

Mercedes can feel the familiar vibration of her cell phone in her pocket, followed quickly by the song that she had assigned to Sam. _OH God…this night just keeps getting better and better. _She lets her head fall forward until it touches the cage separating the front and back seats. She can hear Santana snickering, and Rory is actually humming along.

Sue barks out, "Will you please answer that phone before I am forced to shoot my _singing_ leprechaun partner?"

"I'm cuffed, remember?"

Sue's voice is flat. "I was talking to the other one."

Santana wiggles her eyebrows at Mercedes as she makes quite a show of reaching into the other girl's back pocket for the phone. "Girl, if you don't hurry up and answer that phone…"

Smirking, Santana presses answer. "Mercedes, Rick asked me to call to make sure that you're alright."

"Uh, hi Sam, this is Santana. Mercedes can't talk right now, but you can tell me whatever and I'll tell her."

Quinn forgotten about for the moment, Sam's voice takes on an edge of concern. "Is she okay? She called Rick to pick her up and then never came down."

"Yeah, umm, that—that's because something came up. She won't need Rick until a bit later."

Sue throws out, "Much later!"

"Does she need me for anything? Is this about the money? Did she listen to my message? Because I told her that I would give her anything she needed." His mind is racing with possibilities. It seems as if his beloved is dogged by problems.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow your roll there Sammy boy." Santana huffs into the phone. "I'm gonna leave that first question to her to answer when you guys talk. We got the money taken care of ourselves, so thanks for finally asking. Late and wrong, but thanks. And yes, she definitely listened to that message."

"She did?" Santana can hear the warmth in Sam's voice at the news. It reaches out and touches her, causing her to wink at Mercedes. "Did she say anything else abou—about it?"

"No, but even the 5. 0 can't wipe that smile off of her face." Mercedes' eyes bulge as she glares at Santana.

Santana pulls an oh-shit face and motions to Mercedes that the slip apparently went right over Sam's head. "Really, she was smiling?"

Mercedes looks softens as Santana answers Sam's question that has nothing to do with the 5. 0. "Yeah, I don't know what you said, but it did the trick."

"Hold on, did you say something about the police?" BUSTED. "Are you guys okay? Does she need my lawyer?"

Santana is puzzled again by Sam's questions. He didn't ask what she did wrong, just if she needed help. She thinks, _Maybe he did figure it out after all._

"Sam, we're fine; you just gotta trust me on this. She'll catch up with you later."

"Don't blow me off. Santana, I need to know if she's in trouble." Santana's neck swerve makes Mercedes wonder what Sam said to make her best friend puff out her bottom lip and thrust the phone in her face. Santana motions for Mercedes to talk into the phone.

"H-hi Sam."

"Mercedes!" _If she's with Santana she can't be in that much trouble, right? _"Santana said that you were in jail?"

Part of her wants to laugh, but Sue Sylvester's eyes in the rear view squashed that thought. "No, they just need my help with something."

"So you're not in trouble?" He wants to trust her, but she may be wary of saddling him with her problems. He didn't do so well the last time, although in his defense it was also the first time.

Honestly she answers, "No, I'm not in any kind of trouble."

"No more secrets alright?"

"Okay, no more secrets." She is now wearing a little smile on her face that just so happens to match the one on his face. "As soon as I'm done I'll come see you."

"I'll be waiting and I'm sorry."

"I know, me too."

"Don't be. This works out because I have to see my lawyer tonight anyway, about the divorce."

From the front seat Sue says, "Alright, wrap it up you two. I'm about to get sick from all of the mushiness emanating from the backseat."

With a small chuckle, Mercedes hurriedly says, "I gotta go."

"Yeah, I heard."

Mercedes lets Santana know that she can end the call.

**Hate to burst your bubble…**

Dressed casually in his favorite pair of jeans and his bulls-eye shirt, Sam strides briskly into the conference room. Clapping his hands, he says, "Let's make this quick, I have somewhere else that I'd rather be."

Coming to sneer in front of him, Quinn quips, "Oh you mean a little late night p_ost show _rendezvous with your whore?"

"What?" Scoffing, he narrows his eyes at her and says, "First off I don't know anything about a show and second of all I don't know any whores. Wretched gold diggers, yes, whores, no."

"Fuck you."

"Never again, babe, never again."

Sebastian Smythe clears his throat. "I was hoping that we could keep this civil. My client has evidence that has bearing on the divorce proceedings. Information that if it were to come to light, it could be very damaging to Mr. Evans. Now we are willing to drop this entire matter for a more favorable settlement."

Sam looks at Sebastian. "Settlement? She gets nothing."

"Have a seat Mr. Evans. I think that we may be able to change your mind."

One of Sam's lawyers asks him very quietly if there's anything that they should know about. Sam insists that he's got nothing to hide.

Everyone chooses a plush leather chair around the table to sit in. Sam's lawyer, says, "Well, what did you drag us all down here for? Where is this damning evidence?"

Eyes never leaving Sam's face, Sebastian asks, "Did you know that your client is involved with a prostitute and a stripper?"

"He's not involved with anyone. If you are referring to Ms. Jones, she is merely his inspiration for a principle character in his current writing project. Their relationship is strictly professional."

Sebastian is surprised that Sam had already disclosed his relationship with Mercedes. He casts a questioning look at Quinn. She glares at him, signaling for him to continue. "Well we believe that the relationship has crossed into less than professional territory."

"No it hasn't." Sam's lawyer holds his hand up for silence.

"Again, I must ask, what evidence do you have for this? I am guessing that it's all circumstantial, since you are still looking for a settlement. You don't have enough hearsay to trigger the infidelity clause."

"True, but if we go to arbitration, a judge will find it hard to look past an invitation to watch his muse perform at a well know strip club with other women." Pausing to look at Sam for dramatic effect, Sebastian adds, "Unless that is for _research_ as well?"

Sam frowns in confusion at Sebastian's words. His lawyer leans over and asks him a question privately. He shakes his head in response, before glancing at Quinn and moving to whisper something back. Quinn starts to shift uncomfortably in her seat. "My client has no knowledge of any invitation or performance."

Now it was time for the other side to communicate in hushed tones. After a few animated but quiet exchanges, Sebastian sighs heavily. "No matter. The invitation went astray, however the intent behind the performance, clearly tailored towards Mr. Evan's preferences, will still be enough to prove our point."

"But I never saw any show."

"Do you have anyone who can verify your whereabouts between the hours of 6pm and approximately 8pm earlier tonight?"

"No."

Sneering, Sebastian says, "Well then it could go either way. And I am betting that if we forced a decision, it would go our way."

"That's not right." Sam looks at Quinn, damning her with his eyes. She stares back hardened, refusing to feel guilty. "Quinn, you know I wasn't at some strip show. Just because I was home alone, I'm lying? You know I'm not a liar. You're just betting on doubt, not anything of substance."

Sebastian begins with, Substance means nothing. Reasonable doubt is all we ne—". Only to be cut off by Quinn.

"Preferring the company of whores? Frequenting strip clubs? Sam, I don't know who you are anymore." She sits back in her chair as if breathing in the same air as him was affecting her.

He's stunned by her cruel demeanor. "Quinn, I admit that I didn't react well to the truth about the baby, but you brought all of this on yourself. Why can't you just let me go?"

"You owe me. I built my life around you and you can't just toss me aside as if I never mattered." For a split second she looks hurt and full of remorse, but it passes so quickly that Sam thinks his eyes were playing a trick on him. "There's no way that you can sit there and deny that they weren't stripping just for you. Even I know what your favorite movie is." Momentarily flicking her focus to Sebastian, she orders him to start the video. As Quinn's nasally voice drones on while she continues to berate Sam, he stops listening to her the moment Sebastian presses play on the DVD player.

At first Sam can only see Mercedes. He thinks that her dress looks oddly familiar, but it's not until the light show begins and the song starts that he understands what Quinn meant when she said that the performance was all for him. _Oh…my…God. It's A—Avatar. I mean, oh my God…_

Whoever was doing the filming spent two thirds of the performance focusing on Mercedes and Sam was not complaining. She looked incredible. _This is what she did rather than ask me for money? _A slow smile spreads across his face. _And still, somehow it's like she's singing to me. Even though I let her down. If I had known I would have been there. __She's amazing. _Mercedes' voice is like vocal sex. Not oral sex, although the way each note twists down Sam's spine, coiling around everything, heart, head (both of them), and soul, it might as well be.

_This isn't anything to be ashamed of…it's art. It's beautiful. It's hot. _At that last thought Sam leans forward in his seat completely forgetting that he is in a conference room with a bunch of lawyers and his soon-to-be exwife. As far as he's concerned, he's front and center in the Glee Club. "Ahh…" Sam lets out a small gasp as Mercedes gets pulled into the dance side of the performance when Brittany uses her body for leverage as she 'fought' back against Santana. The action helped launch the blonde into the air, and left Mercedes spinning as a long span of the silver fabric of her dress unfurled in Brittany's hand. She was still mostly covered, but now instead of this silver beauty in the background, she was a silver and brown creature of the wild. _She's still mostly covered, but even the little bit that she is showing says a lot about how this song makes her feel. _His eyes drop momentarily from the screen as he mulls over his latest thought. _How I make her feel. _He looks up, but just as quickly his gaze drops as he shifts in his seat. _How she's making me feel…_

Quinn isn't watching the performance, she is watching Sam. She knows that lustful look in his eye. She hasn't seen it in a good long while, and it is completely revolting that that look is directed at the whore on display at the strip club. Looking around the room, a room full of men, she can see that maybe showing a video of three women in various stages of undress cavorting around on a stage with shiny metal poles while one of them is singing about filling her with their 'poison', while covered in slippery blue paint may not have been her most well thought out plan.

Slowly Sam's mouth begins to drop open as the action on the screen begins to hit an all new level. Mercedes was now speckled in paint in her artfully tattered dress, and she was mimicking to some degree what the other girls were doing onstage. _I love that microphone stand, _Sam thinks as he watches Mercedes move in sync in the background around her mic with Santana's moves on the center stage pole. _Fuck yeah, I love that mic stand. _As he watches her straddle the stand and hook her leg around it at the knee, he thinks, _I would give up an awful lot to be that mic stand. _

_BOOM. _

Quinn slams both hands down on the table. Quickly, her lawyer pauses the video. "You pig. You're sitting there getting all hot and bothered." She casts a ferocious stare around the room. "All of you are! This is unbelievable." Marching around the table to stand in front of Sam she shouts, "This is my livelihood we are deciding and you're all sitting there looking at evidence with _little_ stiffies in your pants." Scattered coughs can be heard around the room. She clenches her jaw and looks at Sam waiting for his response, any kind of response.

Sam's cheeks are still flushed, his pupils still dilated, and his breathing is still coming in soft controlled pants. He's still looking at the still image on the flat screen. The image is of Mercedes leaning over the microphone stand, having slid down, is now paused before she can make it back up. Unknowingly she is looking directly into the camera, eyes sultry, with her small hand encircling the microphone, barely able to make it all the way around. Her mouth is completely open and to Sam presents and inviting abyss just behind the head of the microphone as she hits another groin clenching note.

The things he is thinking about in this moment have absolutely nothing to do with Quinn and she can tell.

Lucille Quinn Fabray is a winner. Lucille Quinn Fabray-Evans is happily married. _Was_ happily married. Lucille Quinn Fabray-Evans does not lose, ever. Something delicate, possibly the last delicate thing left inside of her, snaps.

Screeching, she lunges for his neck with both of her hands. Completely caught off guard, Quinn gets the upper hand before Sam can react. She's locked down tightly with both bony hands around his throat clenching and squeezing with all her might. As she shakes and chokes him, she screams about how she refuses to lose to _THAT_! Sebastian is practically sitting on her back trying to unlock her fingers. Sam is sputtering and spitting, gasping for air, but not really fighting back. He knows that he's won. Whatever it is she is trying to pull with this little meeting has failed and now there's no hope for her. He manages to slide his hand under her fingers, easing the pressure of her hold on his neck allowing him to breathe without her even realizing it. At this point she's just wearing herself out.

When the combined forces of 3 lawyers finally manage to contain Quinn, she looks like a lunatic. Her eyes are bulging, her nostrils are flaring, there's a sheen of sweat across her forehead, and she has the shakes like some adrenaline junkie. It's not a very good look for her.

Sam's lawyer whispers something in his ear. After a longish searching look in Quinn's direction, he nods yes.

"Mr. Evans will be pressing charges. The police are already on their way."

Sam heads for the door. Sebastian moves to block him. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Look, a room full of lawyers saw her attack me, unprovoked. I have to go, _now._ I'll make a statement tomorrow." Sam stares him down and Sebastian slinks aside so that he can pass.

…

After leaving the law office Sam decides that he's done pretending. He calls Rick to get Mercedes' address, deciding that it's time he went to her.

* * *

><p><strong>Part Two: Karma is a BITCH<strong>

**Your 15 minutes starts…now! **

"Hi Rachel!" Kurt is trying to get next to Rachel at her post-strip-a-palooza party. Not really, somehow she convinced Jesse St. James to come and Kurt wants a chance to give him the scoop on the eye-witness that has just come forward to blow the Cochrane case wide open.

Rachel gives him a look dripping in pity. "Kurt, darling, I'm a little busy right now. Why don't you go off and help April regale us?"

_Hell no, then I'd have to endure her moaning on and on about discovering Lima's next big star, Mercedes Jones. _Kurt's face drops for a moment, as Jesse looks through him and Rachel blows by him on her way to introduce him to her new manager. Someone else is looking at him though. An attractive man with an impressive shock of dark curly hair has been staring at him intently since he first sat down. Adjusting his face, Kurt slides onto the barstool next to the mysterious stranger.

"I can't believe she just blew you off like that."

Inclining his head towards the man, Kurt concedes, "It's becoming common practice."

"I'm not trying to be forward or anything, but I wouldn't blow you off like that." Smiling, the man extends his hand towards Kurt. "Blaine Anderson, of Pink Shades Productions, out of Hollywood California."

Returning the smile, Kurt pumps Blaine's hand, and says, "Kurt Hummel, and please be as forward as you'd like." Kurt ignores the look of warning Dave gives him as he places his usual Cosmopolitan down on the bar in front of him. Kurt waves him off with his hand. "What's a Hollywood movie producer doing way out here in Lima of all places?"

Blaine takes a quick sip of his scotch. "Scouting for new talent. One of my biggest stars, Brian Ryan was from here, so I figured that I should at least stop in and have a look-see on my way to New York and Miami."

"Never heard of him, but I prefer silent films and musicals, so don't let that offend you." After seeing Blaine frown, Kurt adds quickly, "Just kidding. I am very familiar with is body of work." For some reason Blaine finds Kurt's choice of words hilarious. He joins in with his own nervous laughter, wondering what was so funny.

Sandy slides unceremoniously in between the two. "Well I've heard about him too, and Kurt you don't want to be like him, run away now." Sandy tries to shoo Blaine off of his stool with her pink bedazzled handbag.

"Ewww, Sandy, do you mind? I'm trying to have a conversation here." With a look of disgust, Kurt grabs Blaine's hand and motions for him to move to another, less crowded section of the bar.

Blaine looks back at Sandy, "Friend of yours?"

"Apparently not." Shaking yet another rude interruption off, he says, "Please Blaine, tell me more."

"Well I'm looking for someone young, attractive, likeable, and of course talented."

"Of course." Smiling coyly, Kurt says, "I think I know someone just like that."

"So do you have any experience?"

"Not really, but I'm a quick study." He takes another dainty swig from his Cosmo. "Plus I will study everything that Brian has ever done."

Leaning in, Blaine asks quickly, "And you're gay right? Not that it really matters, but it certainly makes things easier, given Pink Shades Productions niche market."

"Yes I am. How nice to see that you service the gay community through your work." Blaine laughs again. Kurt just smiles nervously.

"And you're okay with nudity." Polishing off his scotch, he lets out a strong breath. "What am I saying, you've seen Brian's movies, of course you're comfortable with nudity. And you know sexual situations…"

"Uh, ummm…y—yeah? I mean yes, of course, if it's done artistically and with respect." As Blaine babbles on about the business Kurt thinks about the last time someone asked him that question.

He'd been closer to Mercedes back then, and she had a crush on Puck. It was silly and totally schoolgirl, but the way he treated her, _in bed_, made Kurt jealous. It didn't take him long to figure out that Puck had a reputation for being not just a great lay, but the kind of guy you want to be your first. Kurt was wondering if he would be his first. Dave had offered himself to Kurt a number of times, but Kurt wasn't interested, and Puck was hot. Plus, he didn't seem to have any preference or type. Kurt talked to girls and women of all shapes and sizes about their night with Puck. There were whispers swirling that Puck would also sleep with guys. Kurt could never find anyone who he'd actually slept with, but he thought that there had to be some truth to the rumor. It wasn't a hard leap to think that a guy who would sleep with a size 0 one night and a size 18, a pale red head in the morning, and a raven haired Jamaican before turning in, could potentially go both ways. He found it hard to believe that Puck was really as nice and as sweet as Mercedes claimed he was behind closed doors, but like an idiot, he was willing to find out. The letdown had been firm, but considerate. Puck had let him know in no uncertain terms that he was straight. Kurt joked that his secret was safe with him.

"So you wanna join Pink Shades Productions?"

Kurt comes out of his daydream. "You don't even need to see me audition?"

"Well you're more than welcome to show me what you're working with in my hotelroom."

Shocked, Kurt says, "That's illegal. It's sexual harassment. I'm not going to sleep with you for a job."

"Why not?" He laughs at Kurt again. "You're serious? Weren't you listening? I make gay porn." Kurt sprays his Cosmo dramatically across the bar. Standing, Blaine lays some money on the bar. "I guess you drifted off there." He hands Kurt his card. "Either way, you're cute, so the offer still stands." Then he looks around at Rachel and April canoodling in the corner. "Not like you have anything better to do here."

Could he? Kurt wonders as he watches Blaine exit the bar. _Is this really what my life has come to?_

**Time to Bite The Hand That Feeds You…**

Rubbing the sides of his nose like some cheesy prize fighter, Finn says, "C'mon, don't make me do this."

Squinting, Becky looks up into Finn's face. "I think deep down you like to do stuff like this. I see how excited you get when you help the Enforcer."

Finn smiles. "I guess I can't fool you." With a slow measured turn he cracks his neck, always keeping her in his line of sight. "Last chance."

"I repeat, I don't know who shot that lady and took her baby."

Finn steps into Becky's personal space and she holds her ground. "You know I'm only a shitty cop because I want to be. The boy scouts take all the risks. Me, I'd rather just reap the rewards. You know what that means?"

Becky mouths the word no.

"It means that I could be a boy scout too. That I have it all inside, same as them." Moving to within mere inches of her body he says, "I know you're lying." Before Becky can move away Finn grabs her by the shoulders, shaking her hard enough to make her knock her teeth. He tosses her against a wall, smiling to himself at her little whimper from the contact. "I couldn't believe it when the Beiste gave me the okay to do this." He reaches out to trace the outline of her jaw, gripping her chin tightly between his forefinger and thumb. He squeezes until she winces and tries to pull away, and then he squeezes even more.

"She won't let you kill me over some stiff in an alley would she?"

Releasing her face, Finn considers Becky's question. "Maybe. You know we had plans for that stiff and her little baby. Plans that went to shit the moment somebody got ambitious and killed her." Finn raises his hand as if he's about to hit her, cackling as she flinches in anticipation. "You know, I'm not enjoying this as much as I thought I would."

Becky stands up a little straighter, thinking that his change of heart meant that he was done. He's isnt'.

"I've learned that I like it when they scream." Finn rushes forward and places Becky in a chokehold, nearly lifting her off of the ground with the one hand. "Hmmmm, Becky, can you scream for me?" He holds her there at arms length with her toes dragging and kicking out, barely brushing the floor until she starts to turn a deep reddish purple. Then he opens his hands, letting her drop in a wheezing heap.

She says something as she tries to catch her breath.

"What was that? Was that the name of the shooter?"

"No…" She coughs a few times before standing up again. She wipes the dust from her knees and then looks him squarely in the eye. "I said go to hell." This time she didn't flinch as Finn backhands her across the face. Shaking the stars from her head, she twists her face up into a smile. "Fuck you Finn. You may kill me, but there's no way that you're gonna make it either. We're both dead."

"Hmmm, why are you so tough all of a sudden?"

"I'm not; I'm just not scared of you."

Finn looks disappointed. "Why not? I could kill you with my bear hands."

Becky starts laughing. "You're a little bitch. You could kill me, and I'd be dead, but you'd still be a little bitch."

The amusement drains from Finn's face. For a moment, he's not sure what to do if he can't beat the information out of her. Then the light comes back into his eyes. Becky takes a step back as something changes between her and Finn. "Any means possible. That's what I was told. I could hurt, maim, or kill to get it, but you know what?" Finn licks his lips with the moistened pointy end of his tongue. "…You know what my favorite form of torture is?" Becky is backing away with ever quicker steps, as Finn advances, narrowing the distance between them with each broad stride. "You know what always comes before the hurting, the maiming, and the killing?"

Becky's eyes grow wide as she sees what Finn is hinting at. "Please don't, she won't let you. She'll kill you if you tou—"

"YOU JUST DON'T GET IT DO YOU? The Beiste said 'by any means necessary' and I always do what I'm told." He reaches out one hand to grip her wrists, pulling them painfully high above her head. His other hand works at unfastening his belt. "Time to meet my fuckstick."

"NOOOoooooo!"

Finn leans in close and licks the side of Becky's face. Into her ear he whispers, "Unless you want to tell me who did it?" He chuckles softly and says, "But I really hope you stick to your guns. I still haven't made you scream, and I really want to make you scream."

Becky does scream for help as Finn knocks her down to the ground. She thinks that there's no way she can throw him off, but amazingly as she lets fly one fierce kick, Finn goes sailing across the room. For a second Becky thinks, _Damn, I'm stronger than I thought_, that is until Finn's cries of pain reach her ear. She looks over and sees Lauren's body blanketing Finn pummeling him with blow after blow.

THWAAAPPPP. "What the fuck is wrong with you Hudson?" THWOOOMMPP. "Have you lost your damn mind, she's just a kid!" THWAAACCCKKKK. "When I'm through with you you're gonna wish you were a girl to begin with." TRUUUUMMPPP.

Finn's unending cries of pain are the sweetest music to Becky's ears. They stopped and turned into a shrill screech; she actually did a little happy dance clap when Lauren took out her switchblade.

"What is going on in here?" Lauren almost doesn't look up as the Beiste enters the room. She narrowly misses being hit by one of her ample arms. Standing quickly, but still keeping her heel on Finn's windpipe the Enforcer stands at attention. "What the fuck Lauren?"

Coolly Lauren answers the question. "He tried to rape Becky, so I was gonna neuter him."

"Was he gonna rape her before or after she gave up the shooter?"

Lauren looks out of the corner of her eye at Becky, understanding instantly what she really walked in on. Turning her eyes back to the Beiste, she says, "Does it matter? She's only 14 or 15 years old."

"Stand down." For the first time, the Enforcer hesitates. "Now." Lauren slides her foot off of Finn's windpipe. He rolls over on all fours and vomits a little before drawing in a big breath of air.

As Finn stands up he pulls his spare gun from its ankle holster, cocking it in one fluid motion as he aimed it at Lauren's forehead. "Put that away you jackass. She didn't know." Finn smiles at Lauren, mouths 'you're lucky bitch', uncocks the gun, and returns it to its holster.

Lauren looks at Shannon, wondering just what happened to bring her to this all new low. "Why?"

"Finn got hauled in for questioning by that tracksuit wearing detective that's all over the news. The whole kidnapping thing was a great idea, but what's going on now was not according to plan. Somebody screwed up and killed that singer and turned up the heat. Becky knows who did it and she's gonna tell me so I can give them to Finn to turn in. Fuck the baby. If because of all this other crap Finn goes down, I go down too."

Retrieving Becky from her corner, Finn's answer is automatic. "I wouldn't turn on you boss."

Taking her seat, The Beiste says, "You say that now, but you and I both know what you done and it'll come out at some point and lead straight to me. I'm not losing everything that I've taken years to build over some kidnapping gone wrong." She looks at Becky. "Kid, you're killin me here. Just tell us who did it."

Shrugging, Becky says, "I dunno." Finn backhands her again, this time splitting open her bottom lip. "I don't know!"

Unable to stand by and watch Becky get slapped around anymore, Lauren steps up before Finn takes his next windup. "Look, I'm the enforcer not Finn. I'll get her to talk if that's what you want."

Smiling, The Beiste says, "Well, I don't got all night. Get to it."

"I can't do it here."

"Why not, you know just as well as I do that nobody will hear her scream."

Lauren looks at Finn as if he's an idiot. Rolling her eyes, she says, "Because I do more than just break bones to do my job. Fastest way to get her to talk is to take what she loves the most and threaten to kill it. And I know what Becky loves more than anything."

Becky's mouth drops open. She thought that Lauren was her friend, her _real_ friend. Seeing that she's a monster just like everybody else and understanding that she is probably going to die and no one will care, starts to break Becky down. "No, don't. I thought—I thought we were friends. You bitch."

Becky tries to run, but Lauren grabs her by her ponytail and pulls her back. "I don't wanna do this Becky, but like I said, it's my job. Let's go pay grandpa a visit at the home." For a second Becky looks lost. Lauren looks at her intently and jerks her head towards the door. Becky turns on the waterworks.

She begins to beg softly. "No, no please don't do this."

"Tell us."

"No, I—I can't. You don't understand, I—I can't."

In a monotone, Lauren says, "Well then gramps it is. He may not remember you, but you certainly remember him."

Becky is on her knees, still being held erect by her ponytail in Lauren's fist. "Please leave him out of this. Please."

Lauren begins to drag her towards the door. "You brought him into it, not me. How many fingers will he have to lose to get him out of it? Let's take a little trip upstate and find out." Lauren gets a stern nod of permission from the Beiste.

"You don't understand."

Lauren pauses, and bereft of all feeling, says over her shoulder, "You'll have your shooter by tomorrow." Becky's screams can be heard echoing down the long dark hallway.

Finn lets out a low whistle. "Wow, she's good. I didn't even know that Becky had a crazy grandpa."

* * *

><p><strong>Part Three: <strong>_**AWKWARD**_

**Sliding Doors…**

_Knock, knock_

Puck opens the apartment door. "Hi—hi, I'm Sam."

"Yeah, I know. Mercedes isn't here." Puck just stands there.

"Oh, I know, I talked to her and Santana on the phone." Sam can see the surprise register on Puck's face. "You're Puck right?" Puck nods. "Uhh, do you mind if I come in and wait for her to get back from the police station?"

Brittany peeks around Puck's should and pulls Sam into the apartment, saying, "No he won't mind. Please come in. Would you like a beverage?"

Smiling at Brittany as he brushes past Puck, Sam says, "No, but thanks for the offer."

Puck is sitting at the dining room table glaring at Sam. Sam is looking at Puck trying to figure out if he's mad because he hung up on Mercedes or there's more to it than that. Brittany is trying to see how many animals she can find in the shapes on the kitchen floor tiles.

After sitting for five minutes in the most uncomfortable silence ever, all three of them try to break it at the same time.

Puck says, "You better not bail on her like that again."

Sam says, "I thought you guys were just friends, but I am getting a more than friends vibe."

Brittany asks, "Who wants to play charades?"

Both men turn and look at Brittany. She smiles and says, "Hmm, I guess you two need some 'alone time'. If you need me I'll be over there Skyping Lord Tubbington."

Sam gives her a weird look. After only a few days with Brittany, Puck doesn't waste his weird looks on her anymore. He looks at Sam. "Guests first."

"Well okay, I already apologized to Mercedes." He wrings his hands in his lap. "I'm not going anywhere, I mean it. Mercedes is like a godsend."

"Coming on kinda strong ain't cha?"

"I already walked by her once, I'm not going to make the same mistake twice. I've made enough mistakes." From his spot on the center of the couch, Sam tilts his head up, exposing his neck. Puck leans in from his chair to be sure of what he saw. "Yeah, my exwife tried to kill me tonight with her bare hands." Bringing his chin back down, he says, "You know her pretty well right?"

Snorting, Puck says, "You could say that." Sitting back up in his chair, he says, "I knew she was a crazy bitch, but I never pegged her for murderous."

"Well you can add that to her list of _glowing _attributes."

The two guys share in an unlikely laugh. "Exwife? You're already divorced?"

"Nah, but I feel like it." He twirls the wedding ring still on his third finger. "I don't need some lawyers telling me what I already know to be true."

"It matters."

"I know, it matters to Mercedes and it matters to me too. All I'm saying is that there's nothing left for Quinn in here." He jabs a finger into his chest above his heart. "Cept for maybe pity, cuz I think that she's lost her mind."

"Well at least you got out of it."

"Yeah." Swallowing hard, Sam looks Puck in the eyes and says, "So I've found _the one._ What about you Puck, anyone special in your life?"

Puck arches one eyebrow at Sam's questions. "You got balls to ask me that." Running his hand over his Mohawk, he says, "No Dr. Phil, I haven't found _the one._" Sam gives him a dubious look. "Seriously, I may not entirely be over her, but that's only because it's not an easy thing to do. You got nothing to worry about from the Puckasaurus."

Unruffled, Sam says, "I'm not worried about you, and you know why."

"I do."

"It was never you." Puck gives Sam the finger. Sam starts laughing as Puck retrieves three beers out of the fridge.

The laughter draws Brittany over like a moth to the flame. "So I take we're all friends now?" Both guys clink bottles, raise them up, and take a swig. "Good, let's play."

**Jailbirds…**

Wearily Sue sits down with a heavy thud in the chair across from Mercedes. "Are these cuffs really necessary, I mean who are we trying to fool?" With a flick of her eyes, Sue signals to Rory to uncuff Mercedes. Rory can't help but smile at their murder suspect as he catches a whiff of her light and pleasant perfume. "What are smiling at?" Sue's face wrinkles and for a moment both she and Mercedes share WTF-looks.

"Uh, ummm, sorry. You—you just smell good." Rory stammers.

"I _smell_ good? Mercedes looks from Sue to Rory. "_Okay_. Let me guess, you're the good cop?"

"Not really, I'm new and she only lets me take notes." Rory takes the seat next to Mercedes, a slight flush and dimple appearing in his cheeks.

"How new is new?"

Quietly Rory supplies, "This is my first case."

Amiably Mercedes asks, "How's it working out for you so far?"

Almost forgetting about Sue, he answers freely, "Not so good. I mean we're sure that we're close, but… well it's like looking at one of those illusion paintings. The picture looks different depending on who's doing the looking. It's all there, but we're missing stuff. And…."

Rory pauses to watch Mercedes flip a long curl over her shoulder. Grinning, Mercedes repeats, "A_nd?"_

"_And_ the people who should be helping are probably involved somehow."

"The only people that help cops are other cops, so you must be talking about Finn." She rolls her eyes. "He can't be trusted." Rory nods in agreement. "Is that why you arrested me? Because I work with that rat and he has something to do with it? You didn't need to cuff me to get me to turn on that bastard. I hate him and would gladly turn his ass out."

Seeing as how Finn wasn't exactly popular with anybody, all Rory can say is, "Duly noted, but no. We don't think he realized that you were even connected to Shelby until today."

"Then how? Who gave you my name and said that I know who did it?" Seeing the look on Rory's face, Mercedes adds with an air of breathy shock, "Somebody said that _I_ did it?" Looking downcast, Rory nods his head slowly. "I know Puck wouldn't."

"It was Kurt." Sue's sharp looks says that maybe he shouldn't have given out that tidbit of information just yet, but Rory was playing the green good cop, so she had to bite her tongue and play along.

"Kurt? Why would he say that I killed Shelby?"

Sue speaks up for the first time, startling Rory to attention in his chair. "Famewhore would be my best guess. I'm pretty sure he's hoping to score a bit in the _news _coverage of the investigation." She looks at Rory. "Nice job kid."

Mercedes thinks that she was being played and now the bad cop is about to come for her. Except, the bad cop had had a long and extremely frustrating day. Sue is tired of wasting her time barking up the wrong trees. After covering her face and rubbing her eyes extra hard with the pads of her fingers, she fixes Mercedes with a haggard stare. "Look, it's late and I'm tired. I only had Irish hook you up to rattle the Latina. I needed to make sure that she wasn't our killer. It's somebody in your inner circle, that's for sure." Mercedes brings a hand to cover her mouth at Sue's revelation. Holding up her forefinger and thumb she says, "I am so close to figuring this out, but, like Lucky Charms said, there's still something that I can't see." Like rapid fire Sue tells Mercedes practically everything. "I know you didn't kill the songbird. I know Puck didn't do it and I'm pretty sure that Santana didn't either. You're not a good enough liar to hide that if you thought she was in on it. That only leaves a few possibilities. You know who shot Shelby and took Beth."

"No I don't. I would have told Finn."

"Maybe." Mercedes fixes her eyes on Sue. "Honey, even I know that you are selective about the information you share with him. You thought it was Puck at first too, which is why you didn't tell Finn about his lunch with the vic. That's what I don't get. According to Kurt you of all people should know that Puck didn't do it."

Everything is happening so fast and of all the things that Sue is throwing at her, one thing keeps sticking. "What do you mean I should know? Just how exactly should I know?"

"I thought we were being honest here?"

"We—we are."

Leaning across the table, Sue says, "You were in the alley when it happened. Kurt says you nearly took him out trying to get away." Mercedes frowns even harder, shaking her head the entire time. "Who are you and Becky protecting and why?"

In a daze, Mecedes says, "I—I don't know what you're talking about. I was…trying to work and like always I couldn't. All I remember is my blanket and the smell of whiskey. Then hitting the pavement. I didn't even see Kurt."

"Your blanket?" Sue snickers. "You bring your baby blanket to _work_ with you? No wonder you can't turn a trick."

Mercedes looks at her with melancholy eyes. "Not my real blanket. I mean I zone out, go to a different place." Rory and Sue share a quizzical look as Mercedes demeanor changes completely. She zombies out a little in the small office. Sue finally understands what Mercedes has been trying to tell them, and it stirs something inside of her. (Something called compassion.) Continuing in a small voice, she says, "I can see things, hear things, smell things, feel things…it's real, in my head at least."

"We need you to peel back the dream and remember what you saw." Rory reaches out and lays a hand on Mercedes' wrist. She looks at him from under her dark lashes. "You're in the safest place possible right now. If you know who did this we can protect you until the killer is brought to justice. You don't have to be scared."

Tears start to form in Mercedes eyes. As she struggles to speak, Sue says, in as gentle a voice as she's ever uttered, "It's not that easy is it Mercedes?"

"N—no it's not." She quickly moves to wipe away her tears, sniffling as she does. "I'm not scared of the killer because I can't remember seeing anything. All I could see was my—my blanket wrapped around me. I—I'm so sorry. I'm not like Finn, I want to help but I can't."

"Okay, calm down. Let's try a little exercise. You say you heard the shots, right?" Mercedes nods her head, the action turning into a shiver as she thinks about what Sue is saying. "Look, you have to calm down."

"I'm trying to, but I just can't believe that you think I saw the shooter. I didn't see anything. I told you I didn't even see Kurt and he says I almost knocked him over."

"Just relax. Take a deep breath in." Surprisingly, Sue could be soothing when she needed to be.

After complying, Mercedes asks, "Okay, now what?"

"Close your eyes and think about hearing the shots. Think about where you were, not in your head, but in reality."

"I was in a—a john's car."

"Were you in the front or back seat?"

"Front, but it was laying all the way back."

Thinking it wise to stay away from feelings and smells, Sue asks, "What can you see?"

"The roof of the car and the windows."

"What can you see out of the window?"

"I see…I see…" Mercedes gasps and clamps her mouth tight.

"Well?"

Too quickly she answers with, "That's it. I got tossed out of the car after that."

_Why are you lying to me? What did you see or more likely, who did you see? _Sue decides not to press for more, she is going to bide her time. "Okay, well you tried."

Rory chokes on his tongue. Even he can tell that Mercedes is lying. "But sir she—"

"Stuff a potato in it. This is my interrogation not yours. I let you loosen her up, that's all."

"Bu—"

"Zip it Rory." Hearing his real name closes his mouth with a _pop_.

"Actually I do remember something else."

Sue turns her attention back to Mercedes. "What?"

"Kurt. Except I didn't run into him because…because he was already down. Someone else must have knocked into him."

"So sparkle pants lied to me about what he saw. Why am I not surprised." Shrugging, Sue decidess, "We'll follow up with him tomorrow."

Sighing in relief, Mercedes asks, "Does that mean I go now?"

"No." Even Rory looks confused. "What do you know about Matt Rutherford?"

…

Santana is pacing back and forth in the waiting area, waiting. For obvious reasons, cops made her nervous. And this skinny wild looking blonde handcuffed to a chair along the wall was giving her the creeps. Never one to shy away, Santana marches over to the blonde and says, "You gotta problem with me, cuz you're staring awful hard. I gots a girlfriend."

"I—I just, I—I was admiring your dress. I, uhh, used to have one just like it." With the girl closer, she amends her statement, "Well similar to that one anyway. Maybe that one's a new edition?"

Santana shakes her head. "I doubt it. I got this from the Goodwill like a week ago. We had to take it out a little on top to fit the girls, but you're right, it's hot right?"

"Very."

"You don't look so hot though. You look a little crazy, but still kinda classy. What did you get arrested for?"

Looking at her rumpled blouse and scuffed shoes, all Quinn can say is, "Trying to love the wrong person."

…

"I said, what do you know about Matt Rutherford?"

Mincing no words, Mercedes is almost too eager to say, "If Finn's a rat then Matt's a snake. I know he's dealing prescription drugs outta Lima General. I can't prove it or tell you who he's working with, I just know who he sells to."

Smiling, Sue says, "Narcotics will be pleased to finally have a name to go along with their investigation."

Unprompted, Mercedes continues. "He's smart too, like he thinks that he's some kind of genius."

"Yeah, we figured since that drug ring investigation has been going in circles. He covers his tracks well. No matter how hard they looked they couldn't get any hard evidence. You wouldn't know how he does it do you?"

"He deals something else, more dangerous than drugs."

"What? Guns?"

Mercedes lets loose a hollow chuckle. "No. Secrets. He always keeps proof to keep you in check."

Leaning in, Sue asks, "Where does he keep this proof?"

"In a safe in his apartment."

"You sure, you've seen it?"

"No, but I know someone who has." _Sugar._

"This someone, you trust them?" Mercedes nods yes. "Thanks for the intel. I'll pass it on to Narcotics. You're free to go, but don't skip town or anything."

Grateful to finally leave, Mercedes wastes no time skipping out of the office. "Sir, you know she was lying right?"

" Yup. That's why you're gonna follow her. If she knows who the killer is she may lead us right to 'em. I still don't know why she couldn't just tell us who it is, but you make sure that she stays alive long enough to testify." Nodding curtly Rory heads out to track Mercedes.

…

At first Mercedes can't find Santana, but she spots her talking to someone in the waiting area. "There you are, girl we have got to get Sugar." She comes to a halt about 5 feet from Santana. "Why are you talking to her?"

Santana looks up at Mercedes confused. So does Quinn. "You!" Quinn lunges for Mercedes. In a move that was more reflex than anything else, Santana slaps that bitch back down in her chair and is at Mercedes side before the stars clear from Quinn's head.

Completely unphased by slapping a complete stranger in a police station, Santana asks Mercedes, "Uh, what was that all about?"

"That's Quinn!"

"Qui—oohhhh!" Both girls look at the scruffy mess before them. "Looks like she's had a rough night."

Quinn lunges for Mercedes again, only to be brought crashing down by her handcuffed wrist attached to the chair (that just so happened to be screwed into the floor.)

* * *

><p><strong>Part Four: HELP!<strong>

**I need somebody…**

Santana whistles in appreciation. "Wow, you have a driver?"

"No, Sam has a driver that I get to use."

"Same difference." Unable to resist, Santana sticks her head out of the back window and asks in a fake British accent, "Pardon me, do you have any Grey Poupon?" The girls start laughing and even Rick chuckles from the front seat.

Just before they pull out of the lot, Santana get's a call on Mercedes' cell phone (that she was holding for her during the interrogation). Oddly enough, the caller was expecting Ms. Lopez. "Hello, Santana?"

"Yeah, just hold on and I'll put Mercedes on."

"Can you just put me on speaker phone?" She complies. "Um, I really hope that you guys are on your way back."

They exchange a _now-what_ look. "We have to get Sugar first, why?"

"I think Puck is about to kill Matt and I don't think that I can stop him."

"Matt's there, with you?"

"It was literally all fun and games thanks to Brittany until he showed up out of the blue to talk to Puck. Then it got weird quick. Everything seemed alright, until Puck disappeared into the bedroom. When he came back out he was wearing a set of brass knuckles with Matt's name on them. Then he just started swinging and throwing Matt around screaming about how he's done nothing but use him and his girls, and, you know, your run of the mill 'I hate you, you lying backstabbing mutherfucker'." Santana looks at Mercedes in the glow of the cell light. She knows that Mercedes told Puck everything.

Patting Mercedes on the knee, trying to convey that it wasn't her fault, Santana asks, "It's awfully quiet, what's going on?"

"Matt's got himself inside the closet, but I'm thinking that Puck is about to take the door off of the hinges to get him. Brittany's keeping an eye on the situation." They could hear a loud crash on Sam's end of the connection. "Shit, I think that was the door coming down. I gotta go!" Abruptly Sam ends the call.

"Cedes, I gotta get home, because if Brittany or Puck…or Sam end up hurt over Matt, I'm going to kill him myself."

Sighing, Mercedes says, "It's never easy is it?" She taps Rick on the shoulder. "Let me out. You take Santana home. If Matt's at Puck's then maybe I have time to get Sugar out of his place before he gets back, if Puck doesn't kill him first." She leaves Matt's address with Rick so that he can be ready to whisk her and Sugar away after dropping off Santana.

…

The apartment is in absolute chaos when Santana arrives. Matt and Brittany are backed into a corner while Sam was trying to tackle Puck to pin him down. Every time Sam would get a hold of Puck, he'd just hulk his way out. The look on his face told them all that if he got to Matt he was going to kill him. Santana rushes to help Sam hold Puck, who has made it close enough to Matt and Brittany in the corner that he had a handful of Matt's shirt in his hand. As much as all of them would be okay with that happening, with all of the attention their group was getting from Lima's finest at the moment, it would only fuck things up more. Which is fucked up in and of itself because Matt really didn't deserve to live.

Brittany hisses, "I don't even know you but I hate you and I don't hate anybody. Is all that true? What Puck's been saying?" Matt nods his head as Brittany continues to use her body to block Puck's wild blows from hitting their target. Santana has given up trying to hold Puck and is trying to push the two boys away to keep them from accidentally hurting her girlfriend. "Santana, why don't we just let Puck have him?"

"We can't, not right now with all this crap about Beth hanging over our heads." She glances over her shoulder at Matt, still cowering behind Brittany. "Trust me, when that's all over, we'll each get a piece of that bastard. And y'all know that counts double for Cedes after what you did to her."

"What about Mercedes?" Sam is starting to loosen his hold on Puck. Even Puck stops pushing for a moment. After placing one hand on Puck's chest as a signal for a brief time out, Sam turns and repeats his question. "What about Mercedes getting double?"

Looking at Puck, Santana exclaims, "She never told you? !"

"Told me what?"

"God that girl if a fucking saint." Slowly Santana steps away from Brittany, preparing for the storm sure to be unleashed as soon as she says, "She only told you about what he was doing to everybody else. She never told you what this jackass tried to do to her?" Sam's green eyes begin to darken as his hand slowly drops from Puck's chest. "That he tried to rape her that morning you let him stay over? Who do you think fucked his face all up?"

A switch flips and now both Sam and Puck are trying to kill Matt Rutherford with their bare hands.

Matt has his back up against the wall. Brittany and Santana are pressed against him, pushing back as they attempt to at least keep Sam and Puck at arms length. "Puck! Sam!" It is hard work dodging swinging arms and flying fits while trying to reason with the two guys. "Guys, listen! You can't, not right now! We can't!"

"They aren't listening Santana." Brittany braces herself as she is accidentally caught across the face by the back of Puck's hand as he makes lunge for Matt.

Growling, Santana pushes back hard against Matt, and uses him and the wall to launch her into a full-on Pucktackle. They roll away from the group, and Santana flips herself on top of him, straddling him with her thighs. Before he can push her off she slaps his face hard. "Don't make me cut you!" He pulls back as if he's about to return the blow before his eyes clear and he drops his arm. "Damn man, calm the fuck down. You of all people know that I want that bastard dead, but there's too much other shit going on right now. He ain't going nowhere, we'll get him."

_CRASH_

From their vantage point on the floor they look over as Brittany mimics Santana's tackle on Sam, taking out one of the small end tables in the process. She says to him, "Please don't make me hurt you." His chest is heaving, but he complies.

Matt uses that opportunity to scurry away, and, after getting up quickly, Puck hollers after him, "The next time I see you you're dead!"

From just behind him, Sam says, "I want in on that."

Puck turns and closes the apartment door. "No this time it's my responsibility. I was the one who brought him around. I just didn't know what he was doing. I was supposed to keep her safe then and I let her down. Next time though, it's all you."

"Okay."

Picking up his closet door off of the floor, Puck asks, "And you know there won't be a next time, right?"

"I know."

**Not just anybody…**

_Knock, knock, knock…_

Santana and Sam look at Puck. _He wouldn't, would he? _Slowly she approaches the door, holding her favorite blade just behind her back. She reaches out and opens the door. She breathes a sigh of relief when instead of Matt, she sees Becky and Lauren standing in the hallway. "It's okay, it's just the Enforcer and that Street Rat." She motions for them to come in, bolting the door behind them.

Everyone can see that someone used Becky's face for a punching bag. Brittany hands her a homemade ice pack from the freezer. "Lauren, Becky, what happened?"

Lauren looks around at the unbelievably crowded apartment. Brittany she knows, Sam she doesn't. "Who's the Ken-doll?"

Puck answers in a way to erase her doubts about Sam's loyalty. "He's Cede's man, and he's cool. Whatever you tell us we're gonna tell her, and she'll tell him anyway." Sam gives Puck a grateful look. "No more secrets, they just get you killed." Lauren didn't like asking for help. It usually meant putting other people in harm's way, but in this she has no choice. "We don't have anywhere else to go. You're like one of the few people I know who will help us who isn't on the Beiste's payroll."

"She did that to Becky?" Puck walks forward and with very tender hands turns Becky's head to assess all of her bruises. He can see marks on her face, neck, shoulders, wrists, even a heavy band across her knee as if someone tried to pin her down.

"No, that was Finn." Puck knew that Finn was fucked up, but he never thought he was capable of something like this.

"This is low, even for Finn, right?" All Sam knows is that Finn took Santana's money. "Right?"

"He's taken out two of his own partners; he doesn't have a low." Everyone turns to look at Santana. Sam and Brittany look the most lost, not having any of the history. "Short version: We all know that fuck-up Bamboo didn't shoot himself with his own gun, and we all know that it was Finn who hit Artie with that POS car he used to drive. If he tried that shit today he wouldn't get away with it, but back then things were different."

Lauren continues. "They think Becky saw who shot that singer. Beiste unleashed Finn on Becky to get it out of her."

Puck looks at Becky. "Does that mean you know who has Beth?"

"No, if I did I would tell you. I know who killed her mom, but they don't have the baby, she's just gone." Puck releases a slow shuddering breath. "I'm sorry Puck. I can't tell you who killed that woman, because it's…it's complicated."

"But they don't have the baby?" Becky shakes her head. "And you're sure?"

"Positive. I would know."

Brittany steps forward. "No more secrets Becky. If I'm gonna help keep you safe I need to know who from."

Becky looks at Lauren for the okay. Lauren motions for her to continue. "Alright, it was…"

**You know I need someone…**

Mercedes uses her dupe key to quietly open the door to Matt's apartment. _I've gotta hurry. If they don't kill him, he'll be on his way back here to lick his wounds. _The apartment was even more pitiful than Puck's place, which really wasn't all that pitiful with the little touches of life and color that Mercedes and Santana brought. Eternally strung-out Sugar only made Matt's place even bleaker.

"Sugar? Sugar, are you in here?" Mercedes flips on the overhead light, and is startled to find Sugar standing in the kitchen. "We gotta get out of here, it's not safe. I just gave Matt up to the cops and if they aren't on their way now, they'll be here early tomorrow."

Sugar stares at her impassively. Dampening her frustration, Mercedes goes to pack a quick bag for Sugar, making sure to grab only the things that were necessities. The last thing she flings into tiny plastic grocery bag is Sugar's pink hat. Sugar couldn't live without that hat.

Mercedes is confused by what she finds when she returns to the kitchen. Sugar is drinking a glass of water. "Girl, we have water at Puck's, we have to go. I will not let that bastard drag you down with him." She reaches for Sugar's hand, only to have the smaller girl brace herself against the counter. "C'mon Sugar, quit playing, we have to go!"

"Thanks for trying Mercedes, but it's too late for me and you know it."

"Sugar, you don't know that for sure. This is all his fault, it's always his fault. This way he'll pay and you can get away, be free." She pleads with Sugar. "I have a driver, sort of. After we make one stop, you'll never have to come back here. You know Puck will let you stay with him, especially when we bring him—hi"

"I can't replace you. Bleesiidddeessss….tttoooollllatte fuurrr mmeee." Sugar's speech starts to slur and she starts gasping for air, as if she's having trouble breathing. Mercedes comes to her side as she slides to her knees.

"Sugar! What did you do?" Mercedes stands up, looking around the kitchen frantically for some kind of clue. She spots and empty prescription pill bottle in the sink. Reading the label, she crumples to her knees next to Sugar. She brushes the hair away from the semi-conscious girl's face, whispering softly, "Oh no Sugar, what did you do baby, what did you do?"

Sugar's eyes are open and blinking. Her breathing seems labored, like she couldn't take in all of the air that she wanted when she wanted. Mercedes grabs the phone off of the wall and calls 911. Lying she says, "My name is Sugar Motta, and I just swallowed a bottle of valium. I don't wanna die, so send help." She leaves the line open, but says no more. They can trace the call and get the address. She moves to hold Sugar's hand, hearing her gasp on the floor.

Mercedes takes Sugar's hat out of the bag and places it on her head. She kisses her fingers and places them on the side of Sugar's face. "So—r"

"Don't try to talk." Mercedes has her brave face on for Sugar, but they both know that she's dying. "Help is on the way, you'll be okay."

Sugar slowly shakes head. "Sor-ry…"

Rory is sitting in his car on the corner when the emergency call blasts out of his radio. Realizing that Mercedes was at that address, he races into the apartment to help. Mercedes looks up just as he burst through the door, shouting, "Police!"

She backs away from Sugar's body as he begins to check her vital signs, checking for a pulse and to see if she's breathing. "Is there anyone else here?" Mercedes shakes her head no. Reholstering his gun, Rory holds a hand up to Mercedes, saying, "Stay right there." As he leans down one last time to check if Sugar was breathing. Finding that she wasn't, he begins to administer CPR.

Praying that Sugar will be okay, but freaked out that Rory got there way before the ambulance, Mercedes slips out of the apartment and jumps into the waiting car, instructing Rick to take her home, and that unfortunately her friend wouldn't be traveling with her. Bare moments later an ambulance pulls up, and Rory just misses her leaving in the sedan. _Shit._ He calls Sue. Sue figures that because it's so late, Mercedes probably went home. She instructs him to swing by the station to get her. Rory is about to work his first stakeout.

In the sedan, Rick is beginning to work Mercedes' already frayed nerves. "I said take me _home_." She taps on the back of the seat. "Rick, take me to Sam."

Never taking his eyes off of the road, He says, "I am, just trust me." But her panic only increases as he takes her to Puck's apartment.

When he opens the door to the sedan she flips out. "NO you don't get it I don't want to be here anymore. I can't I'm so tired of it all." She's yelling so loudly that she never hears Rick say that Sam is upstairs waiting for her. He texts Sam, who in turn texts Mercedes to go upstairs. Not thinking clearly, she thinks that he's blowing her off, again. Sobbing she leaves Rick standing alone in the parking lot, finally having accepted her fate.

As soon as she's through the door she's enveloped in a warm embrace. Pulling out of the arms, Mercedes looks around the crowed apartment in a daze. _Lauren and Becky? Brittany and Santana…Puck, and—and…_ she looks at the arms that were around her. "Sam, you're here?"

He smiles at her. An hour ago she would have smiled back. Sam had a very bad feeling. "I've been waiting here for you." He can tell that something is terribly wrong. She's crying, and when he reaches out to touch her she pulls back. "Mercedes what's wrong?"

Santana chimes in with, "Yeah, and where's Sugar?"

Sounding hollow, Mercedes says, "Everything is wrong, you should know that by now." Looking down at the floor, she watches her tears darken the light carpet under her feet with little speckles. "I think she's dead and I think that the cops are following me and I think she's dead and I just ran because I could take anymore." The dam breaks and tears start flowing without stopping as Mercedes begins to fall apart. For over 20 years she's pretty much held it together. She's taken everything life dealt her and just pushed through. But this week, with everything that has come up from the investigation, to everything with Puck, losing Santana to Brittany, wanting to lose herself to Sam… to losing Sugar to Matt and drugs.

Santana rushes to hold Mercedes only to be cast aside. "No, it's too much, just too much." She looks around the apartment.

"Sugar's dead?" Sam stands as close to Mercedes as she'll allow. "Is that what's too much or is there more to it?"

She points a finger in the direction of Lauren and Becky. "That. I don't even want to know why they're here. It don't matter. We owe her, and if it's blood she needs, then that's what she gets." She drops her finger, shaking her head, "Except that I'm so fucking tired of just everything. I'm tired of taking care of everybody. I'm so tired of scraping and scratching and never getting anything or getting anywhere. I am tired of losing everything that makes me even a little bit happy." She pushes Sam away. "She killed herself and I was supposed to take care of her. I told her that I would help her and I just left her on the floor." She starts shaking as her mind flashes back to Sugar gasping randomly on the floor. "And Matt, god I should have killed him when I had the chance. He's taken so much from all of us, and now he's taken Sugar. And I just let him."

"Whoa, hold on. How is any of this your fault?" Again, Sam steps closer. He's about to learn that you can't reason with someone having a little breakdown.

Pushing Sam away, Mercedes screams, "Why are you even here? This isn't going to work." Her words slap him hard across the face. Lauren pulls Becky into to the bedroom. This was going to get ugly fast, and Becky had seen enough ugly for one night. "Everything I touch turns black and dies." Sam looks so hurt and stunned. He looks to Puck for some kind of direction, except Puck has never seen Mercedes like this before either. Only Santana has, and she's is transfixed, standing as still as a stone statue watching her best friend unravel. "Sam, you deserve better. You need someone who's gonna lift you up not drag you into their own personal hell. That's all I can give you, hell."

Even though it probably wasn't going to make any difference, Sam won't give up trying to talk sense into Mercedes. As far as he's concerned, she's the only person in the room. He didn't care about how he looked, or of being afraid to say what he needs to say. He has to help her. "I'm not going anywhere without you." He takes one step towards her, and she takes three steps back, all the while shaking her head no. "Say what you want to say. There isn't anything that you've done that would make me leave."

Choking on her tears, she sputters, "No… my life is hell." He looks at her, all of her, and even in her distressed state she can see his eyes soften a bit. She looks down at the way she's dressed, finally reminded that she got all dressed up to go and _be with_ him, a married man. "I'm a whore who lives with her pimp and her best friend the stripper. Your mama would drop dead at the description alone. Who are we fooling?"

The first tear falls from Sam's eyes. It's killing him to hear her talk like this. "Mercedes, don't talk like that. All she's gonna see is how much I love you and how you got me to smile again." She looks as if she's just been stabbed in the chest.

"Do—don't say that." She turns and tries to block him out. He moves to stand across from her on the opposite side of the room. "Please don't make this even harder for me than it already is. I can't keep you, I know that now. There is nothing good about my world. Nothing."

"Baby, please calm down." Tons of people called her baby, but when Sam said it, it softens her to her core. She'd worked so hard to be strong, to not really let anyone all the way in and then this man, a complete stranger walked in and undid years of her hard work.

"NO!" Mercedes spins away from Sam, throwing her arm out as she did, not caring that she knocked a lamp off of the table. Brittany silently begins to pick up the broken pieces as teardrops slide down her face. "Sugar is dead because of me. I got there too late, I was too stupid to see what was going on, I couldn't see it and now she's DEAD. Like everyone I care about." Turning on Sam, who had been trying to move closer to her while her back was turned, frantically she says, "Don't you see, if you stay with me you'll end up dead too? Sugar never belonged in our world, you don't belong here either."

Sam shakes his head resolutely, "No, don't you see." He takes her shaking hands into his own. "I was always the outsider, growing up a dyslexic dork, homeless for years, working like a dog while other kids were out partying. Even now with my fancy car, my big house, my money I was alone in a loveless marriage with no one I could trust, no real friends." He kisses her trembling fingertips, "Until you. You smile at me and my heart finally stops hurting. You laugh _with_ me and I swear that inside I'm thanking God a million times over that I never gave into all the darkness that had engulfed me after we lost the baby. You gave me the strength to see the things that I needed to see and I think that I don't know what I'd do without you." Mercedes shakes her head over and over and over again as she fights to free her hands. It is bitter and heart breaking. "Mercedes, you are the best part of your world. You are the best part of my world." Her face twists into a grimace of disbelief. " You're that rose from the poem. The one growing out of the crack in the sidewalk, neglected, uncared for but despite it all it grew to be beautiful and strong." It's as if he's talking to a wall. She's looking at him with vacant empty eyes, still robotically shaking her head no, but Sam just smiles and says, "Yes. I wouldn't be here without you. Puck wouldn't be here without you, neither would Santana, and if there was no Santana, then Esi would have fallen too. And there'd be no Brittany to light up your life." For a moment there's a spark of the Mercedes that he knows as she looks around and the ones who love her the most. "You help Puck's girls, keeping their lives as decent as possible given the circumstances." But Sam takes it one step too far. "You kept Sugar alive longer than anyone thought possible. Mer—"

"No." She rips her hands away and wraps her arms firmly around herself as she retreats to another corner of the room. "Please, no. I'm just so tired. Tired of everything."

"Then lean on me and rest for a while."

The look in his eyes. No one had ever looked at her like that before, ever. _El mar…_She could drown in those eyes. "I want to, but I can't. I don't want to feel anything. I keep trying to go to that place inside where I can't feel anything, where I'm just dead, but I can't find it anymore." She looks about, asking no one in particular, "Why can't I find it? Before I could just close my eyes and I could hear it so well…" Brittany gasps and Sam stands there slack jawed as Mercedes' mantra spills out…"Just play dead. The dead feel no pain. The dead can't be hurt. Then rise from the dead like a zombie and wash away the dirt. Just play dead."

She laughs, but it is maniacal and chilling. Choking back more tears she says, "But I can't do it anymore. Not after what happened." She looks at Sam. "I'm so sick. You need to stay away from me. Who wants to feel like that?" She raises her hand. "It just hurts so bad right now and I don't want to hurt anymore."

She is spinning around slowly looking at the faces of her friends, her family, so full of concern for her that it just cracks her even more. "I love you guys so much. I love you Sam. I don't understand it, it scares the shit outta me, but I do. I feel like I if just let you in that everything would be okay. But that's stupid. Nothing's ever okay. So why should I feel at all?"

Even though she backed herself into a wall to get away, Sam grabs Mercedes and pulls her into a fierce strong crushing hug. His tears are just as hot and burning in her hair as the ones she's letting fall onto his shirt. He just couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't watch her tear herself to pieces. He holds her as she scratches at him, tries to kick him, punch him, and force him to let her go. Her heart's not in it mainly because his heart is. He's not going to let her go. Eventually the fighting subsides and the tears reduce to trickles. She allows Sam to practically carry her over to the couch, where she sits trembling in his arms.

During the entire ordeal, Santana makes tea of all things, and now that Mercedes is seated, she offers her a cup. "Here sweetie, this will help you calm down." Exhausted and not thinking about how odd it was, Mercedes takes the cup and downs the contents, relishing in the burn as it slides down her throat. Almost immediately she feels the effects of the drugs and her eyes slide sideways.

Sam looks about in a panic. "Oh my God, I think she's about to pass out? What did you do to her?"

"Relax. She has these pills that she's supposed to take when she gets like this. I almost couldn't find'em it's been so long since she's needed them. She'll be okay, but she will be out until the morning. You have maybe a half an hour tops before then." She stands up and takes the cup to the sink as if this kind of stuff happened every day.

Blinking back his unshed tears, Sam asks, "I have a half an hour to do what?"

Santana ticks off the possibilities on her fingers. "Get her out of here. Just for a little while, even a day. Make up for being a dick on the phone and treat her the way she should be treated. Show her the way it should be. The way it could be."

Puck adds, "Besides it's gonna be a little tight in here with Lauren and Becky until we figure out something and she really should stay with you. I'm with San. She needs to get away for a while and we know that you'll take care of her. I'll go get her stuff." Without another word Puck walks into the bedroom.

Sam is still a little lost. Brittany and Santana come and sit with him on the couch as Mercedes starts babbling about how she believes in fairytales, but that it was still a secret and not to tell anyone. She places one finger against Sam's lips to _shhhhsssh_ him into silence. Giggling, she rests her head on his shoulder, all signs of her previous distress gone.

He frowns at the odd turn of events. "She seems to be in a better mood."

"That's just the pills talking, I crushed 'em, so they sorta hit her system all at once." Santana looks at him and shrugs. "It's not like she was going to swallow them whole _voluntarily_ or anything. Anyway, the initial rush will wear off and balance out, and she'll remember flipping out, some of what she's saying now, but ultimately when she wakes up she'll be more…okay. She's still gonna me sad about Sugar, but…"

"She'll be more like her old self?" Mercedes is playing with the silky hairs around the nape of Sam's neck, whispering over and over again how much she loved him, finding that absolutely ludicrous. He is finding it harder and harder to talk to Santana, so he pulls Mercedes' hand down and places it in her lap.

"Right."

"Th-en!" Sam's sentence is cut short when Mercedes begins to trail her hand up his leg. _Far_ up his leg. Like she just squeezed his whoo-ha far. Santana actually giggles for the first time in hours. Removing Mercedes' hand, Sam twines her traveling fingers with his. Taking a deep breath in, he asks, "Then what do I do?"

Giving him a look, she says, "Do what comes naturally." Sam looks a little put off by her answer. Rolling her eyes, she says, "You don't have to have sex or anything. Talk to her, help her feel better, and give her some hope. Sugar practically died in her arms. She needs hope."

Puck emerges from the bedroom with a small overnight bag for Mercedes. "Do you need help getting her to your car?"

Standing up, and pulling Mercedes up with him, Sam says, "No" Then Mercedes makes the whole traveling down to the car even easier by wrapping herself around Sam. "I got her, and I know just where to take her." He looks at Santana. "You have my number?" She nods. "Alright, see you in a few days."

Watching Sam carry Mercedes out of the door, Becky whispers to Lauren, "Are you sure coming here was such a good idea?"

"Yeah, these are the kind of people who'll die to keep each other safe. They won't turn on us and now that we're in, we're in for good."

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><p><strong>End Notes:<strong>

This was a straight turducken update. I stuffed chapter 9 inside of chapter 10 inside of chapter 11. It ended up running obscenely long, but it seemed crazy to spread the events of one long night out over 3 more chapters. The newly spruced up chapter 10 will be 100% pure Samcedes fluff. In '**Whimsy**' Mercedes will live like a real princess for a day with her prince, you know, after the drugs wear off.

Some of the subtitles are from The Beatles 'Help'.

Thanks for reading and I hope that you liked it!

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><p><strong>BUT wait, there's MORE….<strong>

_**HEEELLLPPP!**_….

Matt arrives home just in time to see them wheel Sugar out in the ambulance. With cops as thick as roaches, he runs straight to the Beiste. He's not entirely surprised see that Finn is already there.

"Did you lose a fight with a brick wall?"

Answering Finn's question with his middle finger, Matt makes a beeline straight for the Beiste. "We gotta take out Motta now."

"What's the rush?"

"I—I was out, and I think that Sugar OD'd again."

The Beiste spits on the floor next to her chair. "You were supposed to be keeping her safe. How'd that happen?"

"I don't know, she is an addict, but, honestly I don't know. She's usually more careful." Matt looks at Finn. "If she doesn't make it her daddy has got to die first. You should get going."

"I don't take orders from pussies."

"You're awfully full of yourself, which usually is a good thing, 'cept I think you're full of shit." He sees the Beiste's eyes flicker to Finn, her new hitman.

_Awww shit. Is she about to have him kill me?_ "Did I mention that I convinced Sugar to give me power of attorney after her last OD? No? Musta slipped my mind." The Beiste sits forward in her chair, her eyes questioning. "I actually did it just because I thought she didn't have anybody, before I found out she was loaded. Once Fumbledork over there takes care of her daddy and his new little family, then that money is in mi—our, your control."

"Give me the power of attorney. Uh, umm, the pa—paper work is in my place, which is cop central right now with Sugar's last OD." Matt swallows and his adam's apple bobs up and down. I'll slip back in and get it once the heat turns back down." She scrunches up her eyes at him, trying to decide whether or not he's telling the truth. "I'ma go and get on that." The Beiste motions for Finn to stop him, but before Finn can grab Matt he turns back around as if he's forgotten something.

"You don't have to worry about me, but Becky and Lauren, I'd be worried about them if I were you."

Growling, The Beiste says, "Explain."

"I saw them at Puck's, you know that pimp over on Elm." He can see the shocked disappointment cloud her face. He thinks, _Perfect distraction while I get the fuck away. _"You seem a bit miffed."

Finn tells him, "She was supposed to be getting the name of the shooter out of Becky by torturing her granddad at some nursing home upstate."

Shrugging, Matt says, "Guess it's time to find yourself a new enforcer."

Shannon is still stunned at how she got played. "Becky I get, but Lauren? I can't believe that she'd turn on me too."

"Well I saw her with my own eyes running to that pimp over on Elm Street."

Snickering, Finn supplies, "You mean your brother."

" Yeah."

"Did your brother give you that?" He motions as he refers to Matt's split lip and blackening eyes.

"Yeah. Whatever. He likes to think with his fists. It'll blow over. Not that it's any of your fucking business anyway."

Finally over her shock and pissed as hell, The Beiste says, "May not be keystone cop's but it's mine if it interferes with my money."

Matt point at her and says, "Which is exactly why I have to go. You take care of your business and I'll arrange something with Finn, who you know you can trust."

"Okay, tomorrow or you're dead."

Matt gives her dead eyes. _I'm dead anyway bitch._

After Matt leaves, Finn calls in and checks on Sugar. "Coma." He then convinces the Beiste that Matt has been playing her the whole time. "I been keeping an ear on the investigation, I'm pretty sure that Matt is about to be arrested for the murder/kidnapping."

"The whole time we were looking for someone we didn't know, and he's been right here the whole time?"

Taking a seat, Finn says, "It'll be a double payday with Sugar's inheritance and the ransom money on the side from Beth." Shannon still looks unconvinced. "I know if I had Sugar's money I wouldn't need you anymore. I'd buy a beach somewhere and never look back."

"He wouldn't."

Scoffing, Finn asks, "Wouldn't he though? He's screwed over his best friend, hell his ONLY friend for money. He doesn't give a fuck for you or me. Even I know that he's smarter than all of us put together. He's been using you for the muscle, but after I kill the Motta's he won't need you anymore. All he'll have to do is come forward and claim Sugar's inheritance. How long after that do you think Sugar will be in that coma? He'll pay off one of his doctor friends, get her declared brain dead and pull the plug. He'll be gone before the final beep."

The Beiste looks at Finn, who is red in the face after thinking so hard out loud. "I can't believe I'm about to say this, but you're right."

"I know. I can't believe I figured it out myself. Not sure where he's hiding the baby, but he's in it up to his neck."

Crushing the arms of her chair in her fingers, she says, "Take care of him for me Finn."

"With pleasure."

"This is gonna be a big job between the Mottas and Matt, you're gonna need help." She just realizes something. "Finn, where's your new partner?"

Sounding annoyed with the question, Finn says, "I gave him the night off."

She gives him a questioning look. "Thought he was doin' good? I thought you said he was almost ready to bring in?"

"Yeah he's good alright, too good. I only figured that out a few hours ago too. After our shift ended we were in the locker room getting ready to hit the shower. I was gonna bring him here to work over Becky with me, but he said he had somewhere else he had to be and that he'd catch up with me later. Now that struck me as odd, since he's be on me like white on rice since he started. I thought it was because he looked up to me. Well, I pretended to go take a dump while he showered. I snuck out and broke into his locker. He had some money in there and it was wrapped up like the money we took from this stripper. Then I'm thinking that he's gonna give it back to her, I just know it. Fine, he has a soft spot for hoes, whatever. But then I noticed that it was replacement money. There's only _one _reason why he wouldn't just give her the cash we took. He's keeping it as evidence."

Mike just started working with Finn a few months ago. But thinking about everything she's had Finn do in that timeframe worries the Beiste. "You think he's internal affairs?"

"Must be. Anyway when I noticed the switch I didn't have to look too hard for his wire. Found it stuck to that good luck charm he's always wearing. After showering, I gave him this address and told him to go handle his business."

"You told him to meet you here?"

"What was I supposed to do? Shoot him in the middle of the police station? Even I'm not that dumb. I was hoping that you could tell me what to do. I'm better at doing it than thinking of what to do, know what I mean?"

Considering all of the loose ends that needed tying up, the Beiste begins to formulate a plan. "Well this isn't the first time, so we gotta make it look different than the others. Know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think you should kill two birds with one stone."

Finn is a little confused. Sighing, the Beiste asks herself out loud, "Why do I even bother?" Staring Finn in the eyes, she says, "Use the situation with Frankenstein to take out your partner. Motta's not going anywhere, not with his first child in the hospital. He'll keep Sugar alive long enough for you to kill Matt. _After_ I get that power of attorney."

"I guess matt was wrong about you."

"Huh?"

"He said that you were going soft and that's why he could use you. He's not the only one who thinks that either. That's why your rival Dakota Stanley has been picking off your drug runners one by one. I'ma cop. This I actually understand. You got to show 'em that you still have the biggest fuckstick on the playground. It'll send a message that Lima still belongs to the Beiste."

Smirking, the Beiste comes up with another plan. "You just take care of Mike and Matt. I'll take care of Lauren and Becky. And showoff my big-ass fuckstick too."

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><p><strong>OK, now I'm done. Thanks for reading. &amp; Remember, next up all lovely Samcedes fluff!<strong>


	11. Chapter 10: Whimsy

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, tis a shame, but tis true.**

**CH 10: Whimsy**

**Dear Readers: Thank you for the love love and more love you've shown this story! I'm so glad that summer is finally in full swing. Rest easy, for the most part this update spends way more time in the light than the dark. There's funny, heat, sweet, and just about everything in between. Remember, warnings are in Ch ½. **

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><p><strong>Introduction: Samcedes takes a little time to rest, heal, and be.<strong>

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><p><strong>Part One: Recreational Activities<strong>

"Uhhh, Mercedes?"

"Yeah?" Even she knows that she only _sounds_ innocent.

"Darlin' as much as I'd like to, and believe me I'd like to, I can't drive with you sitting on my lap." He tries to keep a straight face as she takes an indecent amount of time to slide off of his lap and into the passenger's seat of his car. "Buckly up, it's the law." Mercedes laughs at his mock stern voice. "Ready?"

"Ready!"

Sam should have known that the docile passenger in the seat next to him was only temporary. A few minutes later once they hit the expressway, Mercedes started in on him again. "Mer—Cedes! Move your hand." Green eyes blazing, Sam tries to muster up a disapproving look. "You are making things very hard for me right now."

"I know; I can see it from here!" Mercedes quips before Sam can finish his thought.

Exasperated, Sam says, "That's not what I mean. I can't drive with you touching me like that, I'm gonna get into an accident."

Eyes round and full of remorse, Mercedes pouts as she says, "So I shouldn't touch you with my hands while you're driving?"

"A-ffirmative."

"What about with my mouth?" She doesn't even notice the car swerve half into the empty lane next to them before Sam quickly jerks the wheel back straight. She just keeps talking. "I mean, I've never actually done that before, but for you I'd be willing to try. You'd tell me what to do, right?"

"Ri—right." Sam prays for strength. "I mean _no_, you can't use another part of your body, _including _your mouth, either."

"Awwwww, what am I supposed to do then?"

"Sit on your hands and just talk to me. Ask me something; anything, just don't touch me, because when you touch me I forget that I'm supposed to be paying attention to the road because focusing on you is a lot better."

Mercedes dutifully slides her hands under her thighs and thinks of her first question. "Sam, Sammy—Sam…do you have a nickname?"

"Well Sam sort of _is_ my nickname…"

"Oh, yeah, I guess that makes sense. _We-llll_ can I call you Sammy sometimes to be different?"

"Sure, but you're the only one who gets to call me that."

After the nickname question, the rest of the questions grow more and more colorful, culminating with, "Sammy, what do you call little Sammy?"

"Oh look, we're here."

Her first glimpse at Lima's finest hotel, casino, and luxury shopping outlet suitably distracts Mercedes while Sam grabs their bags from the backseat of the car. It is a giggly compliant Mercedes who enters the quiet late night lobby foyer. Familiar with his face, a night manager quickly rushes over from the desk to relieve Sam of his bags. He also offers a forearm in an effort to help Sam escort a slightly unsteady Mercedes to the suite, which Sam shakes off with a smile.

Upstairs, Mercedes convinces Sam that she can put on her own pajamas dammit! And though he believes her, he's still surprised when she emerges from the bathroom in her shorts and backwards tee. Then she's on him. One moment she's standing there in the threshold and the next she's managed to jump on the bed and to pull him down with her. Using a little force as possible, Sam dislodges Mercedes, stands up, and quickly backs away from the bed. He can already feel the hot spot on his neck where she was kissing him. She's just given him what will develop into his first real hickie, in effect marking him as hers. He thinks, _That's not a bad thing, but I can't let this get outta hand. She's not quite herself. She's not quite herself. _

Mercedes is lying back on the bed under the covers throwing him come hither stares. In a seductive little sing-song voice she asks, "Sam, why are you all the way over there? Isn't this why you brought me here, so we could do it?"

He shakes his head no. What he wants is bigger than sex. Not saying that sex isn't a part of it, but that's not why he brought her to the hotel. If it happened, tomorrow he wouldn't fight it.

It's too late to take it back as he watches her face fall apart slowly at his answer. "It's not? I thought you wanted me? You said that you loved me. Did I just make a fool out of myself? I still love you though. I can't help it. Maybe tomorrow I'll wake up and this will all just be a dream. And I'll pretend that I can live the rest of my life without you, because if I weren't pretending you'd know that I was dying so bad inside because after just a week I don't wanna let you go. But I'm not a stalker or anything, I just know that we're supposed to be together." The medication is working against the anxiety brought on by the situation and try as hard as she can, she can't depress her mood and keep it down. "But I still love you …Even if you don't want me anymore. I just don't get it. If this isn't what you want then I don't know what else to give you. Why don't you want me Sam?"

Rushing back over, Sam kneels next to the bed. "Mercedes I do want you, but what I want from you is more than just one night in a fancy hotel. It is taking everything I have not to take you up on your offer." The honest raw look in his eyes forces her to turns away from him as he keeps speaking. "You are the rest of my life and means that you're way more than just sex." He rolls the side of her face over with is forefinger and thumb to nail home the next bit. "But trust, there will be sex too." He allows her to turn her head away from him again only after her distress lifts and she smiles at him. Rambling on, Sam lets spill everything that he could articulate but had still been holding back. "You taught me what a good friend looks like and taught me to trust again. You taught me to laugh again. You got me writing again and singing again too. Nah, it won't just be sex, cause there's love. You showed me great love and as soon as you're yourself again I will show you great love back." Sam begins to rub her back through the sheet. "At least I know for sure how you feel about me now. I mean all of this is in you somewhere, the medicine just made it easier to get out. When you're really ready, I will be waiting. Okay?" Silence. "Mercedes, are you feeling better?"

A soft snore is all the answer he gets from her. He isn't sure when she fell asleep, but he tucks her into the soft warm bed and settles himself down on the chaise opposite her with the spare blanket so as not to disturb her, just in case heaven forbid something else went wrong and he had to step out briefly. Looking at her in the pale light of the moon through the window, his thoughts drift back to the last time he watched her sleep. Tonight is different though. Tonight he's her support. He fights the urge to steal another kiss, instead counting on getting a real one sometime tomorrow. Lots and lots of real ones. Running his hands through his hair as he tries to settle in he feels like everything has changed for the better for them. It was different this time, somehow, especially now that they both have aired their true feelings and he's taking steps to eliminate Quinn from their lives. Just as he starts to drift off to sleep, he gets a phone call from Puck. As his heavy lids finally close and the contently slumbering visage of Mercedes starts to fade from view, he thinks, _Finally some good news._

Morning sunlight is streaming in through an open window, warming her eyelids, causing her to close them even tighter. After what she thinks was a nightmare, Mercedes is finally having the most wonderful dream ever. Unfortunately, as tends to happen, she can't just will herself back into her slumber to continue the dream. She's moving towards the world of awake, and despite her best efforts a continued late morning snooze has slipped away. Lying there, Mercedes feels as if she's in a haze remembering things that at the moment didn't really seem to make any sense. Drowsily she thinks, _No way I said all of that to Sam. No damn way. I just had the worst dream of my life and here I thought that wasn't even possible given my life…Yeah, that's all it was, a dream. _But she has a niggling feeling in the back of her mind that she's only fooling herself. With deluded amusement still coloring her thoughts, Mercedes stretches her arms long overhead, sliding them under the cool light fabric of the silk pillow. Halting, two things give her pause. Number one being that she didn't have light, cool, silk pillowcases, and number two being that her knife was nowhere to be found under the not-hers pillow.

There has only been one other time in her life that she's slept without her blade and that was the night she'd spent with Sam.

Sam.

Just like that, her body is fully awake and alert, completely aware that there was a very warm body spooning hers.

Sam.

Sam could feel the sudden slight jump in Mercedes' body signaling to him that she was awake. He could feel the tension running along her spine pressed against his chest. He could feel her try to force her body to relax, to feign a still sleeping form. _Was she embarrassed? How much of last night did she really remember? Does she still feel the same? _Sam had just slipped into the bed because Mercedes started to have a bad dream and only seemed to calm when she felt as if she wasn't alone. He figured that if he was next to her it would help her settle back down into a more peaceful sleep, then he'd return to his post on the chaise. That was the plan anyway, but he was promptly lured to sleep by the warmth emanating from her body.

First comes shock, and then comes the revelation about the previous night. _Sugar…_ Mercedes pushes that particularly dark and nasty thought away for the time being. Next, she remembers the breakdown Sugar's OD triggered and Nurse Satan's solution. _Oh lawdy…I tried to…Sammy—Sam...in the car…ohmygoodness. _With that more than sobering memory at the forefront of her mind, the remaining scenes of her mostly traumatic night start coming back to her in waves, the images slamming to an end with her trying to give herself to Sam forever and him rejecting her. Her shoulders sag in defeat and shame, causing her shivering body to pull away from Sam's. Before she can slide back down into the pit of sorrow she seems to always be drowning in another fleeting thought hits her. Concentrating hard and frowning with the effort, Mercedes' memory finally adds the last puzzle piece. _Not rejection. _Her mind's eye replays the fuzzy scene for her review over an over again with each viewing adding more and more detail._ It's just not quite the right time. He's my prince. _Holding onto that thought beyond all others to float her above the sadness about her lost friend Sugar, Mercedes opens her eyes to gaze around the room.

Sam's moment of worry passes when Mercedes' shoulders lift, and once again take their place against the top part of his chest. He can feel Mercedes starting to relax more and more with each passing moment. Whatever she's thinking and feeling it's causing her to unclench the rigid arch of her back and to, vertebrae by vertebrae, meld back into the warmth of his body.

As if die were cast, Mercedes thoughts and emotions change, moving from Sugar, to rejection, to love. Mercedes very slowly slides her hand up to cover the small smile on her lips, as if Sam could see the grin. She can feel _him, _and she can't help but smile as she quietly thinks that he's at least as big as Puck. That thought takes flight and travels from her head, past her heart, to warm supple places below. Sam can feel the flush of heat across her body and he unconsciously slips in even closer to her round and inviting backside. Mercedes rumbling sigh encourages him to wrap his arm around her waist even tighter, with the only thing blocking his unconsciously seeking fingers being the silken sheets. She's under it and he is on top of it.

Deep down when he told himself that he was just trying to help her get a restful sleep, he knew full well that he wasn't going to get up again to sleep in the chaise. He knew that he would end up touching her or at least trying to. Somewhere in the midst of all of that soul bearing, a wall had come down between them and for Sam each moment with Mercedes seemed more comfortable and natural. Of course he is a proper Southern gentleman, and this is important to him, so he's willing to wait. But their current arrangement is testing his will to the very point of strain. The night before, sleeping above the sheet was his insurance policy that he'd wake up before he crossed any more lines with a Mercedes that wasn't fully in control. Now he's not so sure why he shouldn't slide the sheet down to really touch her. Slowly inhaling her scent, he thinks about how he could have gotten a different room, one with two beds, but he chose not to. He's walking a fine line, right on the edge. In truth, all he needs is the okay from her and he will gladly cast himself into that sweet abyss.

Chucking softly out loud, but entirely to himself, Sam realizes that as much as he wants to, the time has past for Mercedes to initiate something. Which means he needs to hit the shower before his situation becomes any more unbearable or in any way uncomfortable for her. Shielding the front of his body as best as possible, and afraid to glance over his shoulder at Mercedes face to see just how successful he was, Sam slips quietly into the bathroom. Once Mercedes hears the shower start, she rolls over onto her back, her neck craning to press her nose into the spot that Sam just vacated. Inhaling his scent and reminiscing about their night earlier in the week including her stolen kiss, unbidden her hand caresses the side of her neck. And then, as if it belonged to another person, it slips along the silky sheets coming to rest over the crevice at the center of her hips. Sammy was not that successful in hiding, and although the glimpse of him bobbing to the bathroom brings a heat to her face, it brings a much warmer flush to other parts of her body.

Sprawled in the beautiful bed, in the center of the immaculate and expensive room, thinking about Sam naked and wet and hard in the shower, she wonders, _Am I ready to throw caution to the wind and surprise him in there? _Imagining the response she's likely to receive only excites her more. Truthfully though, the answer is no. But as she rolls over face down into Sam's warm spot on the bed, sliding her hand beneath the waistband of her shorts as she does, she thinks, _But I am ready to do something else._

Under the coursing hot spray of the water Sam thinks about who is in the other room, who is under the covers, what is under the thin t-shirt begging to be touched, and inside of those small soft shorts inviting him inside. He lets out a strained breath, wanting to reign himself in and elongate the moment. It has been a very long time since he's felt this way and while thinking about all that Mercedes has to offer, he feels like he's touching his body for the very first time. He knows that if he went back into the bedroom he probably could slide under the covers, slide his fingers under those shorts, and slip his hands under her shirt and around her breasts. He could taste her, every part of her. He pretty sure that if last night was the truth and not some twisted dream that he could have her; and he wants her, but… it's important to him to be all hers too.

Unknowingly Sam and Mercedes are locked in their own dueling fantasies; different, but essentially the same. Nothing out of this world, but magical to them nonetheless.

Mercedes is unsure of her predicament, her fingers, and of what she is doing, but she is feeling the fragility of life and not taking the moment away for granted. In all honestly this is something that she's never had the desire to do before, but with Sam desire comes easy and as she lets go of her inhibitions to voice some of her pleasure she begins to enjoy the thrill of it all. There's sadness, but in that moment, it's all warm, lust, love, and Sam. It's exciting and daring in her mind, knowing that he could walk in at any moment. _What would I do?_ In silent response her fingers quicken their pace. _What would he do?_ She gets so lost in her own scintillating thoughts that she never hears the shower turn off, or Sam quietly reentering the room.

Pulling up short just three steps into the bedroom Sam knows that he should go back into the bathroom and wait a decent amount of time before making a more obvious, i.e. _loud_ return, except he can't move. It's as if his feet are encased in cement and he's melded to the floor. He doesn't want to embarrass her by spying, but the sun reflecting off of the sheets blanketing Mercedes' body and the undeniable rhythmic motion of said body hold him transfixed. He's caught; his fear of startling her and ending this incredible moment keeps him from moving forward, while his ever growing desire for Mercedes prevents him from retreating back into the bathroom. Then like a pane of glass shattering into a million pieces, the decision is made for him when amid all of the light breathy sounds softly drifting around the room he hears his name caught in a hushed delicate moan. He backs into the bathroom never taking his eyes off of his beloved until the door closes softly in front of his face.

Mercedes can't see Sam looking at her because at this point all she sees are stars. Mercedes can't hear the shower start up again because all she can hear is the melody pounding in her ears from rushing blood. Time stands still as she circles around that bright light of ecstasy before falling in. At some point she must have nodded off to sleep again for when she opens her eyes she sees Sam padding soundlessly across the room, mostly dry but still lightly glistening, and wrapped in a deep blue towel.

In his haste earlier to take care of himself, he'd forgotten to grab clothing, and he really didn't want to wear the same clothes from yesterday which were lightly splattered with Matt Rutherford's blood, his own sweat, and Mercedes' tears. Intentionally he's not looking in her direction, the post release state clearing his head to make room for a bit of guilt at what he'd witnessed without her awareness. He even manages to ignore her sweet giggle. (Sam has a small superman style S tattoo on his back. For some reason this amuses Mercedes greatly.)

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" The sound of her voice fills the room and startles him.

Still pretending to be slightly more interested in picking out socks rather than looking her in the eye, in a rushed tone he asks, "What happened, you mean you know?"

Suspicious that she is missing something, Mercedes answers with, "_Yeah_, I was there yesterday with Sugar and although I was upset I remember losing it at the apartment. What did _you_ think I meant?" Slightly mortified at his gaffe Sam looks over his shoulder at Mercedes and smiles uncomfortably. His stomach growls, and to his surprise her stomach quickly answers with a slight rumble of its own. Her eyes grow wide in shock. "That was my stomach!"

His discomfort forgotten for the time being he quickly assures her. "I know, it's almost noon." Sam takes the hunger as a well timed blessing. "You wanna talk over breakfast? Or brunch really? The brunch menu here is top notch."

Mercedes nods yes eagerly, sending her bed mussed hair flying. Laughing at her antics, Sam drops his shirt on the floor, which he fluidly squats to retrieve. Upon standing he turns to face Mercedes and instantly realizes that his towel decided to stay on the floor. Holding his clothes in front of him he hustles back into the bathroom figuring that karma had gotten him back for peeping earlier. Mercedes' eyes widen in shock for the second time that morning.

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><p><strong>Part Two: So This is What Fairytales Are Made Of<strong>

Mercedes is more comfortable in her own skin in these new opulent surroundings than ever before. Somehow letting herself be loved, like really well and truly loved by someone other than a friend, has opened up another door in her heart that had been locked since that first night her father crept silently into her room. She decides to don one of the fluffy terry cloth towels in the room while they wait for brunch to arrive rather than shower, attempt to fix her hair, and apply make-up. The way Sam looked at her didn't seem to change with her outward appearance, so rather than making them both wait until she was completely ready while their brunch arrived, sat, and got cold, she brushed her teeth and pulled her hair into a quick pony.

After settling down with their food at the little dining nook on the balcony, Sam lets Mercedes take the lead. "I remember everything. Like everything I said, everything I did, and…sorry."

"There's nothing to apologize for. You made it through the worst of it and the rest of it was kinda hot." Mercedes buries her face in her linen napkin. Sam tugs at the corner of the napkin so that he can see her face again. "Seriously, all of it was intense and gave me a glimpse behind a lot of your walls but really when you think about it, now we're even. You saw me totally broken down and a mess before and now I've seen you the same way. It doesn't change how either of us feels, right?" Mercedes shakes her head. "Good. I'm just glad that you woke up smiling instead of crying."

His words bring heat to her face when she thinks about what really put that smile on her face that morning. Sam quietly thinks that even if he couldn't see her ears go red, Mercedes definitely had a 'blushface'.

"You bring that out in me. Even with the pills I still have to deal with sadness. And right now I find it really hard to be sad. I mean Sugar's dead and I couldn't help her. I should be a mess."

"Actually, you did help her."

Mercedes puts her fork down. "Sam this, today, all of it, nice as it is it doesn't change the fact that ultimately I couldn't help her. She's dead."

"No she's not." Mercedes reaches for his hand, but is afraid to take it. She's been hopeless for so long and although for a moment she cast it aside, it's still something in her just under the surface. Sam closes the distance between their hands and wraps his around hers. "Santana called me. After we left they called her dad to ask about Sugar. She's in a coma, not dead. Rumor has it she was saved by a Good Samaritan who called 911 right after she tried to kill herself."

"I'm glad she didn't die." Her eyes glaze over with tears. "I've been there, you know, so ashamed and worthless feeling that I didn't see the point in being here anymore." Knowing her past, Sam had figured as much. "But I could never go through with it. I just thought about it a lot. If I hadn't met Santana when I did…"

After saying a silent player for and asking for a blessing upon a little Latina stripper named Santana Lopez, Sam lifts Mercedes' hand and kisses her knuckles. "You are stronger now and all of that is in your past. I know for a fact that Santana feels the same way about you, Puck too. You bring all of us light, and whether you believe it or not, you deserve all of the good things coming your way."

Looking over the balcony at the green manicured landscape surrounding the hotel, she says, "You mean all of this?"

Nodding, Sam says, "I was told to get you away from the daily grind and this place is perfect. I'm here to take care of you like you took care of me and to bring you a little hope. I owe you, big time."She shakes her head shyly hesitant to admit to anything. "_Annndddd_, I think we've talked about enough of our demons for one morning, don't you?"

Smiling, Mercedes lifts her head and spirits high. Sam continues. "Sugar is alive and thanks to her dad she's getting the best medical treatment possible. She could wake up tomorrow or next week or next month. All because you called for help." He takes her hand and places her fork in it. "Let's enjoy today for the gift it is. Finish your brunch, then you get dressed, and whatever you want to do today we'll do it. If you're not sure, I can pull something together."

"Since I am a bit out of my element, I'll let you surprise me."

…

After finishing brunch, Mercedes grabs her bag from the floor, taking a quick look inside of it before going into the bathroom to freshen up for the day. "Oh my God. Who packed this bag?"

"Puck I think?"

"Figures." She brandishes a bright green piece of fabric in his face.

Having no clue how to respond, Sam says, "Nice… um shirt?"

Tone hot, Mercedes fires back with, "Dress, Santana's dress!"

"Oh." Belatedly he adds another more convincingly distressed _Oh_. "So I guess this means that you don't have anything to wear?" He's thinking,_ I'm not sure that I see the problem._

"No. My pajamas are the only things of mine that I have and _I_ …" she gives him a direct look, "unlike some people, am not walking around half or practically naked."

She smirks as Sam's telltale blush creeps up the back of his neck coloring his ears. Sam holds up a finger, and with a hopeful expression, he picks up phone. "I need some ladies clothing….Uhh, no it's not for me." Mercedes can be heard laughing in the background. "I have a friend with another friend who is gravely ill and she just needed a day of relaxation, so I'm treating her. But she also needs clothes. Her bag got mixed up with her roommates and she just now realized it."

"Is Mrs. Evans alright?"

"It's not Quinn, it was apparently never Quinn."

"Oh, umm, well, sir if I may be so bold as to say, good riddance."

Chuckling at her forwardness, Sam replies with, "You may be so bold, but please call me Sam, and I just wish someone had been brave enough to tell me the truth ages ago."

"So your new _friend_, what does she look like?"

"Beautiful."

"That may be very true si—Sam, but beautiful is not a dress size."

"Well it should be. Those numbers make no sense anyway. I could care less about some number in a tag." Mercedes is not facing Sam, but she is listening intently to his side of the conversation. She thinks that Sam and his idea are sweet. She turns to hear him continue the conversation. Yes it would be easier just to give Mercedes the phone, but for some reason, she's okay with his solution.

"Dress for how you feel or how you want to feel. Feeling good? Then put on your shirt sized confident. Feeling hot? Slip on that red dress sized sexy." He laughs at himself. Mercedes is smiling shyly to herself.

"But sir, I still need an idea of what she looks like so I know who to send to assist her."

"Well she's shorter than me by a lot."

"Okay, is her body type similar Quinn's?"

"No. There is more to enjoy all the way around." Mercedes snorts into her hands. Yes, he's taking such care with his responses that she decides that this is infinitely better.

"Hmmm. To be safe I will send Josephine with a wide range of options. Shall I also send up Ru and Monica?"

"Who are they?"

"They do hair and make-up."

Sam looks at Mercedes, void of all make-up with her hair done in a simple ponytail. He thinks, _I kinda like her like that. She doesn't need fancy make-up and hair. _To the attendant on the phone he responds to her question with one of his own. "Do people regularly have _other_ people do their hair and make-up?"

Not bothering to hide the sour taste in her mouth, she replies curtly, "Mrs. Evans utilized the service _whenever _she stayed here." Sam hears her sigh, and he can hear the pity in her voice when she says, "We all thought that you were a very generous husband, sir."

_Well that settles it. _"We'll take the works."

"The works?"

"Yeah, you know…everything."

"Very well sir. Josephine will be up shortly."

While Sam slipped out to make plans for the day Mercedes enjoyed a manicure, pedicure, facial, hair, and make-up. They were professional and they were good. She was ready to pick out clothing in no time at all. Although Josephine brought a number of outfits to fit Mercedes, she chose something super casual with a hint of golden glam to wear for the day. She was delighted to discover that new jewelry was included. One could never have enough large hoop earrings, never. At the other woman's insistence she also chooses a dress for a late evening dinner.

Perfectly timed, Sam returns just as Josephine, Ru, and the crew were leaving.

The day was spent entirely in the park backing the hotel. The amphitheater on the grounds was hosting a show where reengineered classical music was paired up with modern singers and youth dance troupes to reinvigorate the classics and to earn both sides of the musical coin both past and present some respect and a wider audience. There was seating and an area set up for light refreshments, and another for dancing. Being unable to pass a dance floor without getting his boogie on, Sam shamelessly danced the robot, the cat daddy, the running man for old school giggles, his signature slide and MJesque spins, he convinced Mercedes join him in the bump, plus the wobble with a group that ranged in ages from 5 to 85. Then he just went into a whole bunch of other things that Mercedes was sure didn't have a name. Didn't matter to her though. She hung right with him shaking away. The only time she really got worried was when he stared that damn illegal body rolling and wouldn't stop. He stopped when the music finally ended.

As night fell, Sam and Mercedes returned briefly to the room to change and freshen up (and everything was totally G rated!). Sam had arranged for an early evening picnic. Under the twilight sky, Mercedes decides to make a little confession. She's worried that it will make Sam reject her for good, but she wants him to know about it up front before investing himself any further. She knows where she wants to end up, and if he feels the same way then he needs to know now rather than later.

…

After the small delicious plates of food were shared and consumed with gusto, a light chill fell over the two. In Mercedes' mind there still is one stone left to turn and she's run out of distractions. With her fingers nervously plucking at the edge of the blanket spread over the grass, Mercedes awkwardly looks at Sam. "I—I have something to tell you. Something you need to know about me that's new." Stress about her disclosure is making her throat threaten to close and draws moisture to her eyes. "Wow…" She clears her throat as she notes the concerned expression on Sam's face. "I didn't think that this would be so hard, I mean it's not a bad thing, but I don't know how you'll see it. Especially since you have this career and image to protect. I don't want to drag you down."

"I told you before, you do the exact opposite." Scooting over so that he can hold her hands, Sam says, "What is it? Whatever it is it can't be that bad. Not after everything." Mercedes still looks unsure. "C'mon, you're starting to scare me. Just tell me whatever it is and then let _me _decide how I feel about it. You might be worrying for nothing."

"I got a new job." His face brightens immediately, and Mercedes gives him a warning look. "Don't get too excited yet. I work at the Glee Club." She hangs her head while the information sinks in. After a few moments of silence she brings her head back up and looks into Sam's completely unsurprised face. "You are taking this shockingly well. I know you think it's _honorable_ when Santana does it, but you can't be okay with me working there, can you?"

Shrugging, he says, "I already know, and..." He leans in to nuzzle the side of her neck. "I was just waiting for you to bring it up so that I could inquire about arranging a private performance."

Not interested in fooling around at all, Mercedes asks, "Huh? You knew already? How?"

Seeing that this isn't going to go the way he'd planned, Sam backs away slightly so that he can focus on answering her questions. "Quinn sent somebody to the club to tape your performance with Brittany and Santana. She wanted to use it to blackmail me into a settlement package, but it totally backfired on her." Mercedes' raises an inquisitive brow. "I didn't know about the performance even though Santana apparently called to invite me. Quinn deleted the message. She tried to say that the performance was for me, and maybe it was, maybe it wasn't, but since I wasn't involved, she lost her leverage." The heat from the earlier moment returns to his face and he slides back in close to let her feel how he felt when he first saw the video. "In showing the video she thought I would be ashamed if it went public even though I wasn't involved, but it made me feel something else entirely."

"It did?"

"Umhmmm…she got so pissed that she got herself arrested."

"That explains why she was handcuffed to that bench, cuz you know I was down there too, but… well never mind. I'm a mess, right?"

"No you're not nearly as bad as you think." Smiling at the averted crises, Sam adds casually, "Besides in your show you were mostly clothed and singing, when I had to do it to help put food on the table back in high school…well let's just say they didn't hire me to stand on stage to hide my goodies behind my guitar."

And although he tells her to show that he empathizes, again his admission dissipates the romantic mood and changes the tone of the conversation entirely. "Oh Sam, you were just a kid. I know about having to do things that you're not ready for."

Sighing deeply, Sam whispers, "I had to do what I had to do. I have never told _**anybody**_, and my friends and family never found out. I never did any private dances, and I never let any of them touch me, since I was underage and if anyone ever did find out a lot of people would get into trouble, but…well does that make you want me less?"

Mercedes can't believe her ears. All day she carried around this quiet growing panic about another pock mark in her life that could tear them apart only in the end to discover that all of his adult life Sam had been carrying around much worse. Cradling the side of his face with her hand, she says, "No." She turns to face him. "It actually makes you more real, less storybook perfect, and at the same time completely perfect." He wraps his arms around her waist. As his face looms before hers, she quietly adds, "If that makes any sense."

"It makes perfect sense." Sam leans in towards her face to finally kiss her and Mercedes fights the urge to keep her eyes open. She doesn't want to miss a thing about this moment, but instinct knows that she will get more out of it with them closed.

Once their lips meet all Mercedes can think about is how good it all feels. His lips on hers, his hands intertwined with hers, his chest lightly touching hers, and his legs loosely surround hers. All she can think is, _Perfect, imperfectly perfect is perfect_. Maybe it's the hormones and the endorphins talking but while lost in that blissful union she's okay with the life she's had to lead to this point. Sure it was hard, almost unbearable at times, but she's finally glad that she survived to find real love from a real man.

They were always meant to be. They may have had exceptionally difficult roads to tread, but they were always walking along the same shared path, even if they had to start at opposite ends.

Slowly, Sam unlinks one set of their joined hands so that his hand can finally caress her the way he's been aching to do since they first met. He trails his long fingers down her thigh along the fabric of her light summer dress to the hem which fell just at her bent and kneeling knee. Then very smoothly he reverses the motion, with the notable change being that his fingers were now under the fabric of her dress running directly along the smooth pliable skin of her leg, hip, and around to her backside. Unable to stop himself, he pulls her close, gripping her firmly.

Mercedes isn't really the kind of girl to make love under the open roof of a mostly secluded outdoor garden pagoda next to a small koi pond, but Sam makes her not care. _When in Rome and all that jazz… _As Sam slowly slides her down on the blanket brushing aside the empty plates and bowls, she thinks, _This is going to happen and there is very little at this point that can stop it._

Unfortunately very little does include an out of the blue evening summer storm.

Even after the rain starts pouring down, it is only the close flashes of lightning that finally drive them inside. But inside there is a bed. She stands by that bed while Sam hangs the 'Do Not Distrub' sign on the door behind them. As he comes closer he starts shaking his hair like dog after hopping out of the pool, showering Mercedes with tiny water droplets. "Don't worry, after the storm passes I will go back and clean up our picnic." Seeing her slight displeasure at getting just a bit more wet from his antics he pulls back a few steps to shake most of the water off of him without dousing her with any more.

Inside her head Mercedes wonders which storm Sam is talking about, the one outside or the one brewing between them inside the large open bedroom. That's the one that is making Mercedes feel hot enough to steam herself dry from the rain. The one that has Sam jerking up in attention to meet her. The one that makes her forget about how her wet hair must look. The one that's closing in on them, making the room shrink and shrink until it is just them and a softly lit bed. Nothing else matters. Smiling a smile that she's never really smiled before, Mercedes beckons for Sam to come closer, waving a crooked finger in his direction. Quietly to herself, she thinks, _I know I saw everything when that towel dropped, but for some reason he's even sexier in that clingy white linen shirt._

And the look in his eyes as he closes the distance between them, mon Dieu!

Mercedes has never felt so wanted in her life. In a move that goes across her eyes like a blur, Sam has his shirt off. It's her turn, but she can't seem to move her hands to remove her dress. Sam is more than willing to help. He moves closer to her to gently slide the straps of her dress off of her shoulders. Before doing so he places around her neck a soft slick necklace of kisses. He gives similar treatment to the tops of her shoulders and then while staring intently into her eyes, he runs his hands from her jaw, down her neck, and then down her arms, bringing the straps of the dress down with them. More exposed than ever before Mercedes searches Sam's face for any sign of disappointment as his eyes eagerly devour her form still partially hidden behind delicate underthnigs. She finds none. His hands slide back up her arms making her skin tingle. Rather than returning to her neck, his hands slide deliberately down the front of her chest and spread wide over the thin lace fabric. When she looks at him she's not ashamed. She takes her hands and lays them over his, nodding yes. Then she feels the only cold thing in the room. Quinn. Her fingers brush and lightly turn the metal of Sam's wedding ring and like that the tide of passion recedes. Mercedes' face crumbles and for his gross oversight Sam gives her a heartfelt apologetic look. Sam flings the fucking band across the room and not even ping it makes as it collides with the opposite wall never to be seen again makes them feel any better. Before he can say anything she quickly runs into the bathroom and closes the door behind her.

Sam fights the urge to punch his fist through the wall, but most of his anger evaporates when he hears Mercedes' voice through the closed door. "I'm sorry."

Leaning his forehead against the door, mirroring her position on the other side, he answers back. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I should have taken the ring off when I filed for divorce."

"Technically you're still married though. Throwing away your wedding ring doesn't change that."

"Mercedes, you know I'm not really, not where it counts."

"Sam you know I want this just as much as you but I'm not a whore. I never was and I know I don't want to be the other woman. I want to be the _only_ woman. After everything, if this is supposed to be mine I want it to be the one thing that I have the right way."

Clenching his teeth and his fists as well, he says, "I want that too. You were _never_ ever a whore to me. It's you and you know it. It's always been you."

"I know but we can't."

"I know. It should have been you. I should have talked to you that day on campus. It should have been you all along. It will be from now on, I promise. You don't have to wait too much longer." Slowly the door opens. Mercedes is wearing her t-shirt and shorts. After pulling her into a massively deep hug, Sam gently points to the bed with a nod of his head. "Let me sing you a lullaby."

"Okay, I'd like that." She slides under the sheets while he props himself on pillows above it. She turns and nestles into his side.

Sam takes his guitar retrieved earlier that day from his car into his hands and begins to sing quietly. "We'll do it all; Everything; On our own; We don't need…Anything; Or anyone"

Mercedes has never heard this song before. It's soft and simple, but deceptively so. The lyrics make the back of her throat prickle with unspent emotion. He's telling her that even if someone takes it all away, the books and money, the fancy hotels, the car, the personal driver, everything, they will still be alright. At the core of her life there has always been family. Even when her own family failed her she had the support of friends and so much of the time the love of friends is _all_ she's ever had. Sam is telling her that she's all he really needs.

"If I lay here; If I just lay here; Would you lie with me and just forget the world?"

All this time she's been feeling selfish for running away and ruining their night, but now she sees that if this is what she needs then this is all he needs. Her tears begin to slide silently down over her cheeks and Sam pauses briefly to kiss the top of her head when he hears her small sniffle.

"I don't quite know; How to say…How I feel; Those three words; Are said too much; They're not enough…"

Sam desperately hopes that Mercedes understands what he is trying to say with this song that despite everything he's said to her up to this point, there's still loads that he's still struggling to convey. 'I love you' is just not enough to show her how deep his feelings for her run. She is literally the part of him that he's been missing since he started looking for love. Since he's been looking for her.

"Forget what we're told; Before we get too old; Show me a garden that's bursting into life…"

He's wasted too much time already thinking back to that day that he didn't speak to her. He's broken his heart a thousand times imagining the atrocities she's had to face trying to 'work' since then because he was too shy to speak up. All of that pain that he could have saved her from.

"Let's waste time; Chasing cars; Around our heads…"

Mercedes too has wasted time imagining what her life would have been like with Sam. How she could have turned the loss of his child into a moment of such joy for both of them. He didn't deserve to be used and treated that way. She had always thought that people with his life were happy because they had everything. Now she sees that money can't buy the things that really make your soul shine. In so many ways she and Sam were alike.

"All that I am; All that I ever was; Is here in your perfect eyes, they're all I can see…"

Perfectly imperfect is perfect.

"I don't know where; Confused about how as well; Just know that these things will never change for us at all…"

He doesn't care about the short amount of time that he's known her. In that little bit of time he's been shown and lavished in true unconditional love and he's never letting go of it. Mercedes feels the same way. She sees people get lost to the streets, dead though walking every day. She once counted herself a zombie among them, but no longer. There's no way she's gonna let this slip away. They were always meant to be, bound, tried and true. Somehow, someway they got lost, but unerringly they found each other.

"If I lay here; If I just lay here; Would you lie with me and just forget the world?"

There is a sudden silence that envelopes the room when the last chords of the song die out. Sam places his guitar on the floor, propped up against the nightstand. He wordlessly slides under the blankets and wraps his arms around Mercedes. After letting out a cleansing breath, he stares at the stars through the open window, unsure of what to say. He wants to tell her that everything is going to work out. He just knows it.

As if she can tell exactly what he's thinking, he can feel her as she nods her head in affirmation just before laying it on his chest.

…

Mercedes wakes the next morning expecting to find Sam. Instead she is alone in the bed and the room looks as if it has been cleaned while she slept. "Sam?" She looks about trying to find some indication as to where he may be. "S-a-aa-m? Where are you?" She looks slowly over her side of the bed to the floor. Her bag is packed and neatly waiting for her. Lying on her stomach, she slides across the bed to peer over Sam's side, figuring that as long as she sees his bag and guitar, he's probably getting breakfast. Inching her head out over the edge to look at the floor, she's surprised to find it empty. "Huh?"

She's even more surprised; okay maybe scared shitless, when Sam slides out from under the bed and shouts, "BAZINGA!"

Flying back, Mercedes reaches for the knife under her pillow that still isn't there while Sam laughs good-naturedly in the face of his almost demise. Mercedes mumbles, "Seriously? This is how you're gonna wake me up after yesterday?" All Sam can do is laugh harder.

Later, while waiting for their breakfast to arrive his phone buzzes in his pocket. Checking, he sees 'Quinn' on the caller ID and he lets it go to voicemail. For some reason he can't be bothered with her at the moment.

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><p><strong>End Notes:<strong>

I am thinking of a total country song here about tequila (and there are a lot but I mean the one where your clothes fall off.) Raise your hand if you get a bit touchy-feely after having a margarita or two…or three. *raises hand* Yeah, well then that is Mercedes on the super-shot of her feel good meds.

Who got the show ref? Huh, anybody?

I love it when you are looking for a song to match a pretty powerful moment in a story and there happens to exist that perfect song. 'Chasing Cars' by Snow Patrol. I don't care that it's old; it's still a lot better than so much of the 'music' played today.

I pray this update wasn't too disappointing since nothing really 'went down'. I am taking a permanent hiatus from even pretending to write smut. Hopefully it was enough to make you smile because the next two chapters will seriously up the body count. I pay for fluff with blood and tears in this tale. But we are just a few updates from the end (and there won't be any blood and only happy tears there!)

Must use words used: Whimsy & BAZINGA for Emzjuk:) It's like you totally made this chapter happen. Well that and jadz threatening to cut me if I abandoned this story, come to think of it, so did emz… Ps. : I was gonna slip in the supercollider again for you Em, but I realized that I keep typing it 'hardon' instead of 'hadron'! (Ummm, where is my mind? Oh, IDK… *grins sheepishly*) I'm not going to bother myself with going back and fixing it tho!

Next up, **CH 11: She Brought a Knife to the Gun Fight**. And if the title didn't tip you off, at Finn's prompting the Beiste moves incredibly fast on her decision to take care of the defectors Becky and Lauren. So while Sam and Mercedes are off enjoying the good life, we'll find out if Puck and Santana can keep the girls safe!

Thanks for reading and I hoped that you liked it!


	12. CH 11: She brought a knife

**CH 11: She Brought A Knife to the Gun Fight**

**Mini-AN for the mini-chapter: **Well, well, well…just where did my summer of writing go? Because I can be an unmotivated slacker I took too long to get into it and then I went AWOL to watch the Olympics 24/7. Plus, you know, life. Now that I have sufficiently recovered…FINALLY back to the story! EXTRA Thanks in the meantime to all of you still following, reviewing, and favorite-ing this off-beat little tale.

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><p><strong>Introduction:<strong> This chapter is short (for me), not so sweet, and to the point. Let's find out what exactly went down while Mercedes and Sam were off on their little fluffy getaway. It is gory, quirky, and quite bloody, but none of the ones we really love will be hurt…I'm saving that for CH 12.

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><p>…<strong>Extra Special…<strong>

The first beam of sunlight into the room startles Lauren awake. She doesn't give her bedmates, any indication that she is not still asleep. She is in the middle of the bed, having gone to sleep between Puck, who insisted on sleeping nearest the door, and Becky who insisted on sleeping the farthest away from Puck.

_Puck._

His breath is tickling the back of her neck. His arms are wrapped around her, and he his completely pressed into her back. Puck made it very clear that he was just there to help and that was all. Besides they had talked briefly about his reputation and he reassured her that he would never, ever do anything with a gently snoring Becky just inches away. Though that made Lauren relieved, it also unsettled her in other ways.

Taking a more complete assessment, Lauren is fairly certain that reassurance or not, the way he feels pressed against her now is telling her that if circumstances were different, he'd be open to the idea. (Though loathe to admit it, she liked _that idea_.) Not as if Puck was presenting himself as a future consideration. She knew what everyone said. She knew this didn't mean anything, if the rumors were true, Puck could get it up for just about anyone. But this morning it was for her, and with everything else she's seen from him, he had real potential.

Almost laughing aloud at her train of thought, Lauren shuts it all down with, _And that would only be true if rainbows were really unicorn shit like Brittany claims!_

Puck had woken up with many'a female. He knew the moment that Lauren woke up and wondered if maybe she liked where she was just as much as he did when she didn't immediately get up from the bed. He was actually relieved when Lauren and Becky showed up at his place.

It broke his heart to see Mercy break down like that in front of everybody. It pulverized those shattered pieces to pack that little overnight bag and hand it over to Sam. They were cool and it was for the best, but it still hurt like a motherfucker. That hole Mercy made grew even wider when Santana and Brittany bolted as soon as Mercedes left for her little getaway.

Until that moment Puck had never been plagued by nightmares of an empty bed. Chalk it up to exhaustion or depression, but this morning Puck was holding on to Lauren for dear life. He'd never been alone before, but after growing accustomed to waking up to the same beautiful faces every morning, he didn't think he had it in him anymore to just sleep around to stave off solitude.

Enter Lauren 'the Enforcer' Zizes.

He knew the look on their faces when he pulled her and Becky into the room with him. Understandably, but completely unnecessarily, Becky looked petrified. For less than a fraction of a second so did Lauren.

Puck had a few girls like Lauren working for him. Most were eager to show him that they made much better bedmates than sticks with fake tits. But a few of them were all talk and not much else. Doing what he did best he got them to open up, and honestly they had given him some pretty memorable nights. Just thinking about all of that made him ground himself closer to Lauren, who still didn't move in protest.

Leaning in to run his nose along the hair that fell down her back, Puck thinks, _With them there was more to hold, of them to give…and with Lauren I just know it would be no different. _The world saw the tough as nails enforcer, but right now all he knew of her was soft.

Which is the exact opposite of how he's feeling at the moment.

Having convinced herself that unicorns did not shit rainbows, and that fairies in fact would not die if she failed to reach orga—…(okay, Brittany is special), Lauren has had enough of Puck's poking. Not like it could go any further anyway. "Move now and I won't hurt you."

Puck puts just enough distance between them to eliminate the physical contact. "You hungry?"

"For what?" Lauren's eyes bug out of her head. _What the hell was that Lauren?! You threaten him to get him to back off and then you effing flirt with him?_ _You're baiting him, but for WHY?!_

Behind Lauren's back Puck is puzzled and turning over again and again Lauren's _playful? r_esponse. _Huh, talk about your mixed signals. _Rolling over, Puck says, "Just food, really good food."

Sighing with relief that Puck didn't want to play anymore that morning, Lauren sits up, mirroring Puck. "Sure."

Puck reaches across the expanse of the bed to wake up Becky, and is startled half off of the bed when she enters the room, clearly having just woken up from a night on the couch. "Becky, if you've been out there, then who…" He turns back and instantly recognizes the combined shape of Brittany and Santana.

(Santana saw Puck's heartbreak and relented, returning to the apartment later in the night, with Brittany in tow.)

Smiling, Puck announces, "Alright ladies, breakfast time. Everybody up and ready to go in 10. The extra special breakfast special waits for no one." Casting one last wistful look in Lauren's direction, he adds, "Plus we should limit our time out on the street."

Lauren, Becky, and Brittany complied without protest. The former assuming that it was Puck's house so Puck's rules, and the latter was just generally agreeable. Santana…not so much.

"Buttcrack of dawn Puck… Leave. Me. Alone." Slipping her hand beneath her pillow, Puck knows that Santana is fingering her blade to add more heft to her threat.

Undeterred, Puck repeats, "We all go." He pulls the comforter off of Santana, who is still pretending to sleep. "Satan, as much as I would love to leave your disagreeable ass, I can't. I learned the hard way to never leave anyone behind." With that, Santana gives him a scowl but sits up. Smirking, Brittany throws a dress at Santana and stands over her while she quickly dresses.

"You too, Brittany, _really_?"

The blond girl just nods her head and smiles.

Puck remembers what happened the last time he left someone he was supposed to protect behind and he would never forgive himself if Lauren and Becky got killed at his place, so everyone made the short trip over to the diner. This time though it doesn't matter. Thanks to Matt, The Beiste knew where Lauren was and her thugs were waiting for her to come out of hiding. She wanted her former enforcer's punishment to be swift, but public, to remind everybody who was in charge. After her men killed Lauren, they were to bring Becky to her.

…**Wham, Bam, Thank you M'am…**

Puck and his charges entered quietly through the back of the diner, and Mama C-Chang was there with carry out containers. "What's this? You got more girls now?"

"Sorta, what's the problem?"

"Not enough food." Eyeing Lauren and Becky, she says, "Your usual order is two short. Just wait here." She scurries off, and Puck exhales impatiently. After a few moments they all hear the sound of breaking glass and a screaming Mama C-Chang. "Mwhhaaaahhahahaaa! You call that a knife? For killing butterflies maybe...Now this, _this _is a knife. For killing, well, let me show you!"

The group rapidly exchanges 'oh shit' looks and without thinking a moment longer, Santana turns towards the commotion, pulls out her long blade, and takes off. Brittany is only a step behind her. Puck motions for Lauren and Becky to wait as he runs after the two girls.

The tableau before Puck and Santana is unbelievable. Brittany looks like she's doing some kind of spinning kick above Artie's chair straight out of an old school game of street fighter. Puck looks at Santana who just shrugs in response. On the other side of the counter some dude with a big carrot top mop of curly orange hair and aviator shades is twirling a little butterfly knife in Mama C-Chang's face. Mama C-Chang is still cackling as she swings her arm through the air, bringing her cleaver down on the man's hand. The blade slices almost through his wrist, pinning him to the countertop.

He shouts, "You fucking crone. I paid good money for that hand!"

Confusion abounds as carrot top yanks his arm hard enough to rip the sleeve of his jacket off as he pulls himself free. "What is THAT?" Mama C-Chang screeches as she points her finger at the hand still pinned to the counter. Carrot top laughs and waves his non-bloody stump in her face. Grimacing at the sight, Mama C-Chang counters with, "No fair, you the one armed man!" She yanks her cleaver out of the counter, batting the prosthetic appendage away. "But don't worry before today ends I will make you the no armed man!"

Flicking his tongue like a cat, carrot top eggs her on. "Bring it you old hag. Maybe before I kill you I'll let you blow it!"

Puck and Santana exchange a whole new set of looks. Before either of them can react further a thin wiry man who looked a lot like a poor broke down John Waters slithers up behind Santana and strokes her hair. She whips around fast enough to slap him in the face with the end of her ponytail. He smiles showing crooked yellowed teeth. "Mmmmmm, feisty. Just how I like'em. If you play nice little girl maybe I'll keep you instead."

"Touch me again and I'll cut off your dick and add it to my collection."

"Not unless I add you to mine first, bitch."

Puck was so caught up in watching Santana, Mama C-Chang and the others that he missed the 3 guys who had a bead on him. They got in one sucker punch and then Puck gave them his undivided attention.

…

After hearing more shouting, Lauren looks around the hallway and spies a wooden broom handle leaning in one corner. She gives the wooden bar to Becky and says, "I can't let them fight this fight alone."

"I know."

"You swing first and ask questions second, alright?"

"Got it."

As Lauren makes her way to the front of the diner, Becky looks around for some place to hide. The door to the upstairs apartment is locked, so she heads back down the stairs. Just as she reaches the landing the back door opens slowly. She closes her eyes and swings, bringing the stick down hard. After hearing the satisfying _crack _indicating contact with a man's head, Becky opens her eyes. Lying at her feet is Cooter, one of The Beiste's acquaintances and sometimes lover. For good measure Becky hits him over the head a second time and pushes him outside. She turns the lock on the door and slides the long-bar into place. _Boom, boom, boom_! Already, someone else is banging on the door trying to get in. Scared, Becky runs towards the front of the restaurant. Moving way too fast, she slips on some broken glass and ends up sliding under one of the booth tables. In all of the chaos, no one seemed to notice her arrival, so she stays put.

The first wave of hired thugs thought they were clever enough to carry out their little task without any major snags. All they had to do was kill one girl and grab another, one just a kid and the other a big girl who only used her fists. They weren't afraid of kids and girl fists. They knew that their targets were staying with a pimp and a few of his hoes. They were for-hire mercenaries hardened by life and they weren't afraid of no sissy pimp and his whores.

They failed to see that the 24 hour diner they chose for their public attack was also the local off-duty cop hangout, that the current handicapable manager was a former cop, that his wife could work a double action shot-gun, and that his mother-in-law thought she had blades for hands. They also quickly learned that Puck and his brass knuckles weren't no joke, that Santana had no qualms about trying to maim them with every swipe she took, that Brittany apparently could take care of herself too, and that Lauren's fists were as hard as sledgehammers anyway.

From her vantage point under one of the tables all Becky can see is mayhem.

Puck and Lauren are standing practically back-to-back throwing punches almost in unison. Thinking that no way a little girl could take any of them, the thugs keep doubling up on Puck, leaving each girl with only one of them to fend off at a time. Lauren, because of her reputation, earns herself two. For the first time ever Becky looked at Puck and thought that he looked kinda hot standing his ground fighting to keep her alive. But it passed quickly. He was sooo not her type.

Becky knew Lauren could handle herself, but until she saw it with her own eyes, she never believed any of the rumors she'd heard about Santana and her big knife.

The big knife that she was currently using to slice away at a guy twice her size. By the time she was done with him, his torso and arms were a mess of bloody dripping ribbons. Becky almost screams when he lands next to her on the floor with a thud, passed out from shock and blood loss. "Ewwwww…" She tries to push him and his spreading blood pool away with her shoe.

Brittany was, for lack of a better term, out of this world. She was strong, fast, and doing all of these flips and tricks as she kicked some major ass. Only slightly jealous and bitter, Becky thinks, _Ohmygod, she's like frickin Xena warrior cheerleader, figures. At least I'm smarter than her…._

She watches as the man Brittany is fighting grabs a bottle and breaks it off on the edge of the table. For just a second Brittany loses ground as the jagged edge swipes dangerously close to her throat. Feeling guilty for thinking so badly about someone she just met who is risking her life for her, Becky helps Brittany take down her current asshole. As Brittany forces the man backwards towards her hiding spot with a few well place kicks, Becky slides her foot out causing the man to fall backwards. He loses his hold on the bottle as he falls, sending it up into the air. Now on his back, dazed, he starts screaming as the bottle comes down, lodging itself in his left eye. Shrieking at the top of his lungs he stands up and makes one more desperate dive for Brittany, who smoothly uses his own momentum to send him flying through the center pane of the front window into the street. He lands in a glass covered and bloody mess at foot of two uniformed officers heading into the diner with Big Bubba for the extra special breakfast special. Without hesitation, Bubba picks up the man and throws him back into the diner through a different pane of glass. He won't move again until the ambulances arrive, much later.

Rushing in, the cops only know Artie and his family. They can't tell who of the remaining groups locked in combat are the attackers and who are the ones being attacked. Protocol dictates that everybody gets cuffs and they will sort it out later.

Guns drawn, they shout, "Police! Everybody hands on your head!" No one even looks over at them.

They stand there completely useless until one of the larger attackers, sporting an eye-patch and shouting obscenities at them in Russian tries to tackle them both to the ground with one leaping push. They grapple with him on the floor for a few minutes. By the time they have him bound in cuffs and chained to one of the diner stools bolted to the floor, the other attackers are either dead, injured, or suitably subdued.

The younger of the two officers, looks around at who is still standing. Eyes trained on Artie, he asks in an uncertain tone, "These people, the—the ones still standing, friends of yours?"

"Yeah, they were only helping us defend ourselves."

"We—well okay, uh, we—we still have to call for back-up and medical. Di—din't have a chance to before." Just as he finishes making the call on his shoulder radio unit, the heavy artillery arrives for the other side, all carrying guns of some sort. Puck, and everyone else without a gun run for the back door while Artie, Tina, one off duty, and the few first responding officers dive behind the counter and try to hold the new group of hired guns at bay.

Like a herd of wild horses Puck, Becky and the others charge for the back door. Somehow, someway Big Bubba is leading the charge. (He may have a bum knee, but he still knows how to run when bullets start flying). He gets a slow-mo 'huh' look from Santana as he blows past her reaching the back door first. He throws the bar back and pushes the door open.

_BANG! _

Looking down at the crimson spreading across his chest leaking from the hole just put in his body, Bubba is stunned. But only for a moment. Ignoring his wound he reaches for the thug with the shotgun before he has a chance to pump and fire a second time. As he strangles the man into unconsciousness, they can see more men with guns making their way towards the door. Using his girth, Bubba pushes Puck and the others back inside. Chest heaving with the effort, Bubba shouts, "You guys gotta go another way. Don't worry, I won't let'em in." He grits his teeth as his body starts to jerk as bullets are fired at the metal door by the men outside. They haven't gotten through…yet. "Go! I got this!"

Backing away slowly, giving his friend a look of grateful respect, Puck shouts over the sound of scattered gunfire, "Change of plans. We hide and hope that the rest of the Calvary arrives soon. If any more of them show up, we'll be out gunned and outnumbered. I know that Artie and Tina will do their best to hold it down with those cops." He pauses briefly, but only for a second. There's not enough time to worry about Artie and Tina. "Don't come out until you are absolutely sure that it's clear! Got it?"

"Got it!"

Quickly, everyone pairs off and scatters into the back hallways and rooms of the diner. Before Lauren can react, Mama C-Chang disappears behind a door with Becky in tow. Santana disappears with Brittany through another swinging door, and the next thing she knows, she's being pulled into a walk-in freezer by Puck.

…**The Dragon and the Doe….**

Pulling a dangling chain, one bare overhead bulb dimly lights the small spare storage room where Mama C-Chang and Becky are hiding behind some stacked boxes. Swinging a bloodied blade back and forth in front of Becky's face, Mama C-Chang quietly rants, "This is all your fault. My diner is ruined. I should cut you for bringing this mess to my door."

Cowering, Becky wonders if sharing her hideout with the crazy Asian lady was a good idea. "I'm sorry, but I didn't have anywhere else to go. I've been with Lauren ever since I lost my parents."

"Where are they? Can't you find them?"

"They're dead. The Beiste arranged for a little accident."

Mama C-Chang gives Becky a look of disbelief. "But you work for the Beiste? That don't make no kinda sense if she killed your parents? Why don't you just slit her throat while she sleeps?"

"I didn't know about my parents; I just found that out from Lauren. I remember that used to have things, nice things like a house, toys, a special school, and two parents that loved me. But something happened. I don't know what, just that the banks turned them down for a loan and they went to the Beiste for money." Looking down at her feet in shame, she continues with, "But the way she works her deals, you never pay her off and she owns you until she's through with you. When she found out that my parents were going to talk to the police, she had them killed. Then she sent Lauren for me and like some sick joke I ended up working for her."

For her tale, Becky receives a gruff but sincere thump on the shoulder. "Lauren was only keeping secrets to protect you, but secrets like that only hurt. She should have told you sooner, you cut the throat, and then we are not in this mess." Becky gives her an incredulous look. "Think about it. You kill Shannon long time ago and maybe my Artie is still walking and a good cop. Maybe that rat Finn is the one living in the alleys where he belongs, or better yet in jail, or even better yet dead too. Puck would have his baby and maybe that rich lady would have loved him too. Or not. I think that big girl really likes him. But all the ladies like him." The look wistful look she gives Becky makes the younger girl wonder. Smiling fondly, Mama C-Chang continues. "Anyway, point is, Shannon is like main head of a many headed snake. You kill her and all the rest of them die too. Best ending." This time, rather than her free hand, she taps the end of her cleaver on Becky's shoulder to emphasize her point.

Ignoring the bloodstain the blade left behind by focusing on what the older woman was saying, Becky makes her decision. "I like the way you think."

"Ha! Tell me something I don't know." Smile fading away quickly, Mama C-Chang concedes that the best ending isn't always the actual ending. "But you're young. And it's not so easy to kill. So, the snake still lives, Artie is still in the chair, good cops are dead while bad cops live, my shop is a mess, that rich lady is dead, and Puck's baby is probably dead too. All because you cannot slit the throat."

Watching the scarlet drops fall off of the end of the other woman's weapon, Becky shakes her head and fights a chill that rushes over her body. "I—I couldn't kill her, but I know enough to take her down for good. If we make it out of here, I'm gonna stop hiding and finally go to the cops."

Happy, Mama C-Chang isn't surprised that the current situation has made Becky see the light, but she's still very much a realist. "Good luck with that. You gonna need it." The shouting on the other side of the door causes her to slowly bring her blade to her lips in the universal signal for 'SHADDUP!'

…**Pretty Demon Blade and The Loopy Rainbow…**

Once they are certain that they aren't followed, and after their eyes have adjusted to the mostly dark of the wall cabinet interior, Brittany asks quietly, "Soooo, is it always this exciting?"

"No." Even in the dim interior of the cabinet with the sliding door Santana can clearly see the 'bullshit' look on Brittany's face. "I guess when you look back at this week… but I mean it's not exactly the 'Cosby Show', but this 'Wire' mess is ridic even for us."

Brittany does not answer, but scrunches up her face, fighting off a smile.

With her eyes closed as she mentally reviews all of the drama of the last week, Santana misses it. Eyes still closed, she whispers, "I'm so sorry babe. I would understand it if you walked away and never looked back."

"Nah, I'm not going anywhere. Those people out there are your family and you have to do whatever it takes to protect them. I get it." After a few moment of silence, Brittany says, "So I think we're gonna be in here for a while. Did I mention that I got a new glow in the dark tongue ring?"

Santana opens her eyes to look, and is delighted to find Brittany already lowering herself to her knees.

…**P-I-Z-E-S…**

Despondent, Lauren mutters in disbelief, "I can't believe The Beiste put out a hit on me. On _me_."

Unsurprised, Puck answers with, "She doesn't care about anybody but herself. You know too much."

"They aren't gonna stop are they?"

Sliding down to the floor of the freezer, Puck says, "No. She'll keep looking for you and sending people after you until you're dead. Becky too. And…"

"And you too now, right? She's going to know that you're helping me, and that means you and your friends are in danger too."

Puck nods wordlessly and shrugs as if to say, no big deal. He flashes her a smile. Unbelievably, Lauren can feel a spot in her stomach grow warm as he looks at her. Puck captures her gaze with his hazel eyes and quirks an eyebrow at her. His lip curve into what she thinks is a _seductive _half-smile. Quickly she looks away. There is no way that Puck's look meant anything. Guys like him and girls like her…never in a million years. He clears his throat pulling her attention back to him as he lifts his arms above his head to cradle his head against the back wall where they are hiding. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't miss the flash of toned and tanned flesh that peeked out just above the waist of his jeans. That warm spot in her center grows a bit larger and a bit hotter. She's confused. Is he…_flirting_ with her? _For why?_ Shaking her head, she distracts herself by scooting back to rest along the wall of the freezer too.

"So, we both agree that we could die tonight." Out of the corner of his eye he can see Lauren's head bobbing as she nods in agreement. He holds out his fist for a pound. As a way of explanation, he says, "You really held your own in there with those guys."

"I _am _the enforcer, and unlike Big Bubba I don't rest on my reputation. Reputation only carries you but so far. I've fought worse than them."

Pulling back his hand, Puck says, "I know, you're not all bark, you bite too. I think you almost broke that one guy's neck with just a punch."

Smiling at the compliment, Lauren falls for Puck's trap and turns to look him in the eye. "Yeah, that was pretty cool." Her smile falters when she sees that Puck has a very serious look in his eyes. "What?"

"I like it when you bite." The look he is giving her is far from innocent.

The freezer feels like a coffin as Lauren's chest tightens and her eyes begin to dart around looking for an escape. There is only one way in and one way out. To leave would surely bring death at the hands of some gun-toting thug. To stay…Lauren is convinced that she would die of embarrassment. She scoots back putting some space between her and Puck. Somehow, in the last 3 seconds, he had moved close enough that she could feel the heat emanating from his body. _Blunt,_ she thinks, _be blunt_. Pulling a face she says, "Back up. I'm not some hoe you can just push up on. There are guys out there who want us dead and you're trying to fuck me? Seriously, this is _not_ happening."

"With that attitude it certainly isn't." But Puck doesn't move back, instead he slides in closer. She curses herself for being captivated as his plump bottom lip is pulled into his mouth to be moistened by his tongue sliding between his teeth. Again, he smiles. "Like you said, this could be it. Why the hell not? I'm a fucking bad-ass, you're a fucking bad-ass, and I think fucking bad-asses need to fuck." Instead of looking tough, Lauren looks a little scared. Her hard exterior is up again so fast that anyone else would have missed it, but Puck knows people and he knows what he saw. _Huh…there it is again. Now what was that all about?_ Lauren doesn't give up any more space to Puck, but she doesn't tell him to back the fuck up either. Puck leans in closer, and says, "Did you hear me? I like it, love it in fact. Every dirty eff-you look you gave me back at the apartment, every bird you flipped Santana for trying to look at you cross-eyed, every time you pushed back when those guys out there came at you. You're strong and that's hot."

She shakes her head in disbelief. Puck half chuckles, half smiles; eyes dead serious. "You know how it goes '_it's hard out here for a pimp_.' I work my ass off for pennies. But one day, I'm gonna find my baby girl, have a strong woman by my side, and get everything I want." The way he's staring at Lauren makes her wonder just which strong woman he has in mind.

"What exactly do you want, Puck?"

"Me, I want what's coming to me."

_Did he just?...Only one way to find out_…"Oh, well what's coming to you?"

"The world, Chico, and everything in it." She didn't think he'd catch it, but his stupid movie reference makes her smile. Death is trolling the hallways and she is sitting in the back of a dingy walk-freezer, not really freezing. Flirting and not freezing. Puck's voice cuts through her thoughts. "But right here, right now? Just you, all I want is you."

"I don't want to be some pity-lay."

Shaking his head, Puck answers with, "That's not what this is. I've been trying to make this happen since you helped us out when those punks came for Big Bubba at the club a little while back. At first I thought maybe you were playing for the other team, but that wasn't it. You just didn't pick up on what I was sending you."

"What?" Trying to downplay the astonishment in her voice, Lauren takes an extended pause before continuing with, "You never said a word to me."

"I usually don't have to. Chicks line up for a chance with me. You flew into that fight and shut it down. And then just as fast you left. You never gave me a chance to say… 'boo'." The way he says the word with those perfectly puckered lips is unlike any way Lauren has ever heard it said before. And mama likes. "I see you around and you act like you don't want to talk or like you don't like me, but that wasn't it. Then I thought maybe it was 'Cedes and Satan, but after having you stay at my place, that's not it either, is it?"

"Just what the hell do you know about anything?"

"I know you like me." She rolls her eyes at him. "I know, what can I say, pretty much every unattached woman I know likes me, and a few dudes too. But the difference is you don't think this could happen. You won't give me a chance because you don't think that I'll give you a chance."

"You are so full of sh—"As Lauren opens her mouth to protest further, they both hear the freezer door open. Puck silences her by placing his lips over hers. In truth she could have easily broken his hold and pushed him away, but in an even deeper truth, she didn't want to.

A short while later, as she lay there trying to quietly adjust her clothes back into place under the penetrating gaze of oh-my-god-I-just-had-sex-with-him Noah Puckerman, she wonders to herself, and softly aloud, "...So what happens now?"

"Well, we could check to see if it's safe to come out. Or, we could do it again since I had to hustle that first time because of the whole 'we could die tonight' bullshit. Or, we could bask in the afterglow, cuz even with the hustle, that was good." She frowns, but says nothing. Slowly, Puck whispers, "That's not what you meant was it?"

Lauren tries and is only partially successful at giving him a dirty look. She thinks, _Note to self: impossible to be a hard-ass right after orgasm_. She consoles herself with the knowledge that she just kept a few fairies alive.

"Well, obviously you and Becky can stay with me until everything blows over."

"And after?" Lauren looks around, past Puck, for the source of that quiet delicate voice only to realize that it was her own quiet delicate voice whispering in the frosty space. Shocked, she thinks, _This man has ruined me…ruined meeeee! _

"You don't have to leave." In a very tender gesture, he brushes a stray strand of hair off her face.

Still frowning, Lauren says, "You're nothing like I imagined you to be. You come across so hard sometimes, but in reality you're so damn soft, you're gooey." _At least my sass is still firmly in place, even if my bra isn't!_

Leaning down, Puck sends new shivers down her spine that have nothing to do with her lying prone on the floor of the freezer. "Give me a minute, hard is coming right up."

…

Let's just end it there. Police back-up arrives and tips the scales, saving the lives of everyone we care so dearly about. Everyone eventually came out of hiding, and more than one of them looked extra disheveled and only a bit red in the face.

* * *

><p><strong>End Notes: <strong>

Uhhh, apologies, I saw the action in this like a comic strip all 'pow', 'boom', and 'ka-bam'. I work with some insane dudes and they asked to be written into the story and killed off in fun ways. That one-armed man? My immediate supervisor. That dude in the eye-patch cursing in Russian? He's my partner. That wiry guy with the pencil moustache? My program manager. Just…*shakes head* …sorry. :D

I liked Puck with Lauren best. Not I-would-rather-bash-you Berry, Not Cray Fabray, Not even Mercedes (she made him a better man) Jones…as far as I'm concerned, for Noah Puckerman there is only one woman, and you spell her name Z-I-Z-E-S. Just look at how lost and pathetic he was in s3 without her. She never would have let him do that shit with his hair either (you know I speak the truth!)

There was a line said by Puck from the Oscar winning song by Three 6 Mafia, featured in the movie 'Hustle and Flow'. I really enjoyed the movie despite the main character's girly-man voice. (Oh, I went there…) It is one of the things that inspired this story. I loved typing "Oscar winning song by Three 6 Mafia" btw ;)

The in-story movie reference between Lauren/Puck was to 'Scarface', b/c one of my must-use phrases was supplied by **PrettyfulWishes** who really wanted to have Puck use the word 'chico'. See, the dear readers speak and I listen. Even if it takes me a few months to slip them in :] The rest will slip in eventually.

So, lemme warn you now. This update was a lot of campy violence that was almost fun it was so silly. The next update, **CH 12: Just Before You Die, Your Life Flashes Before Your Eyes, **not so much. Dear readers, get out your Kleenex because it's finally time to kill off one, two, okay…maybe more like three or four main characters.

* * *

><p>…<strong>Rock Fucking Bottom…<strong>

"Fabray, Quinn Fabray, step forward please. No smiling."

Quinn steps in front of the infamous wall. You know, the wall with the little hash marks and numbers indicating your height.

*Flash*

"Turn to your right…hold the sign up a bit higher on your shoulder."

*Flash*

"Right hand…" It takes only a few moments, although she's been waiting for a few hours. "Left…" She stares off at a spot on the far wall, rather than acknowledge that anything even the least bit untoward is actually happening. "Wipe."

Quinn has lost the ability to speak. She is locked inside of her head, in another place, a better place. She is not being arrested for trying to kill her husband with her bare hands. She is not sitting in a chair that countless vagrants, hookers, actual murders, and drug dealers have sat in. She is in a happy place. This is not happening to her. She is not being led back to a cell for the night.

She is not.

Okay, that last bit is true. Honey Badger sent the Rash to bail her out. After sitting in silence in his old beat up pick-up truck for a few minutes, Quinn squeaks out, "Thanks."

"No problem, you're family."

Pulling out her phone, she mutters, "I'll have Sebastian pay you back." Or not. After only a few moments on the phone, Quinn throws her phone on the dash. "That little prick. He just dropped me. Because of what happened tonight my case is hopeless, and without a big payout from Sam, he won't stay on as my lawyer. He wouldn't even let me talk."

Anthony looks at her questioningly. He wonders, _Where is the rant? Where is the bitch? Where is the over the top vengeful plotting? Has Quinn finally given up? _

Judging by the silent weeping going on in the passenger's seat of the truck cab, one would think.

Sighing, the Rash shakes his head and reaches across Quinn to open the glove box. He hands her a scrunched up piece of paper, saying, "Here, I can't stand to see a pretty woman cry." Quinn visibly perks up at the word 'pretty'. Anthony just smirks and keeps talking. "I got something for you."

"Like…like a present?" It had seemed like ages since a man had bought her a present, or at least one that she didn't buy for herself with said man's money.

"Sure, you could call it that, it's special."

Quinn pats her face dry. "How special?"

". 38 special." Anthony pulls out a brown manila envelope and drops the surprisingly heavy lump in her lap. Quinn frowns; she was expecting a little blue box or at the very least one that was velvet lined. "It's a kind of gun. Small, cheap, effective, and perfect for a girl."

Face still drawing a frown, Quinn picks up the envelope and opens the flap. "You bought me a gun?" Pulling it out and holding it in her hand she again looks at The Rash. "Why?"

"Look, I know I what I'd do in your situation…" His eyes dart to the gun in Quinn's hand. "…but I'm from Lima Heights Adjacent and not that uppity suburb you grew up in."

"What exactly do you expect me to do with—with an unloaded gun?"

"I got bullets." He reaches for another envelope in the glove box, however he does not give this one to Quinn.

"But still, you expect me to use this?"

Anthony takes a slow blink and lets out a deep sigh. "You did try to kill your husband tonight. I just figured that maybe you wanted to finish the job."

Quinn looks flabbergasted. "That—that was just a misunderstanding. I could never actually kill Sam. I love him."

"Who you trying to fool? You love his money and besides, he don't love you."

Shaking her head, Quinn tries to force the gun back into Anthony Rashad's hands. "No. I'm better than this."

"Oh really?" Eyebrows raised, Anthony doles out a bit of reality for Quinn. "Look, I just bailed you out of jail; you have no lawyer, no job, no money, no man, and no dignity." Pushing the gun back into her hand, he ends with, "What the hell else you got to lose?"

As his words hit home, he sees that familiar icy cold flash flicker in her green eyes. His job here is done.

"Tomorrow morning, can you drop me off at the Excelsior, early?"

"Sure thing." He hands her the envelope containing the box of bullets.

Quinn is smiling as the truck pulls off.

…

I slipped a little something extra in there for you :)

Thanks for reading and I hope that you liked it!


	13. CH 12: Life Flashes Before Your Eyes

**CH 12: Just Before You Die Your Life Flashes Before Your Eyes**

**Introduction: **I am not really sure what to write here other than a most sincere THANK-YOU to those of you still following and showing me some 'glad to see you're back' reviewLOVE. I hope you're all having a wonderful holiday or just doing well :)

Uhh, as for the chapter, well…you'll see what I have done by the end, and hopefully y'all won't be too upset with me for doing it.

Just keep referring to the title if you get confused, or send me a PM if you have a question.

* * *

><p><strong>Part One: Sing it with me now: I can't live, if living is without you…<strong>

On a guess, Quinn figures that Sam would head to the Excelsior since no one is living in their house. She leaves him a message claiming that she was ready to sign the divorce papers and needs to meet him at her lawyer's office. She assumes that he's on his way there, to meet her, and that by the time he realizes she was lying, she'd be in his room waiting for his return. She thinks smugly, _Maybe that bitch manager is working. I told her that I'd be back. If I play this right I could kill two birds with one stone. I could lie in wait for my husband and pin it all on her at the same time. _

(Only Sam never got the message because he's been too busy taking care of Mercedes (upstairs in his suite!). )

Luckily a different manager is working and doesn't know that Quinn is not allowed access to the room any longer. He's flirting with her, and agrees to give her a key to her husband's room. He only has to check the computer one last time. Tearing his eyes away from Quinn, he glances down at his computer screen and sees the note regarding Mrs. Fabray-Evans, _and_ that the room is currently occupied. "I'm sorry ma'am, there appears to be a problem. Your husband's account is flagged and I can't give you a key."

"Please, we had a fight and he overreacted. You honestly can't make me wait in the lobby." Voice hushed, she whispers, "But I'm not wearing anything under this coat." That gets the manager's attention. "I'm trying to surprise him so that we can kiss and make up." Putting on a pouty face she pleads teasingly, "Please, I'd even let you escort me up to the room and wait with me until he returns. Which could be a very, very long time."

Still the manager holds firm. "As much as I am tempted, and believe me I am tempted, I can't."

Chill creeping back into her tone, Quinn demands to know why.

"For reasons that I am not at liberty to divulge."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

Just as she's about to chew him out, she hears someone say, "Sorry your stay with us was so short Mr. Evans. I hope that you and your companion had a pleasant visit." Quinn misses Sam's reply because it's drowned out by the blood pounding in her ears. She turns wordlessly from the concierge desk and stalks towards Sam and Mercedes as they walk towards the front lobby.

Mercedes touching his arm lightly causes him to pause and turn to look at her. "Thank you for this. It was, it was a bit much, but given the circumstances I really needed this little retreat."

"You deserve it. You take care of so many people, me included. I had to help."

"Yeah, but this…" she says looking up at the chandelier and vaulted ceiling, "I don't think this is what Santana had in mind."

"This is exactly what she had in mind. I think that you need a few more stays at the grand hotel to get used to the royal treatment."

When they stop to talk, Quinn slows her approach; the intimacy in that innocent touch is not lost on her. She feels tears prickle the back of her eyes, and her throat starts to clench. In her pocket, the thumb on her right hand circles the safety on the gun.

For a brief moment her mind is clear. She remembers the Rash and Honey Badger giving her the gun, the latter implying that since she'd lost everything she should use it on herself. Honey Badger was not going to have her pretty thin cousin shacking up with her for very long. Suicide? Hardly a thing that Quinn Fabray was capable of, but murder or _maybe_ murder-suicide was right up her alley. Regardless, she was going to give him hell for all that he put her through. Either way she would be the last face he ever saw.

She was supposed to be with Sam, not some whore. But seeing them together in the lobby threw her even more off-kilter. She could just let him go and find another guy, someone like Jesse. She is young, fit, and attractive. This doesn't have to be the end of her. She could turn and walk away. But another feeling chases away her brief bout of emotional accessibility. Shame. How can she go back to her old life with a new man while her ex flaunts his whore for the cameras and in his books? She would die of shame from the looks and the whispers. She'd rather…her thumb flicks the safety off.

The gun is out of her pocket and leveled at Mercedes' head. No one in the bustling lobby seems to notice the blonde woman in the gray trench coat holding the gun. No one but her intended target.

A look of pure terror crosses Mercedes' face, causing Sam to ask, "What's wrong? You really do deserve the royal treatment." Barely moving, Mercedes jerks her chin in Quinn's direction. "Huh, wha—?" Slowly Sam turns to face the direction Mercedes is looking in.

"Quinn!" _BANG_! "No…" He propels his body forward, blocking her shot and putting himself in harm's way.

…**Sam…Sam…Sam…Sam…Sam…Sam…Sam…**

1

Amused, Mercedes is lying in bed under silky sheets watching Sam race around like a chicken with its head cut off. She's unconsciously twirling a wide gold band around her finger. That makes him smile as it's only just a habit she's recently formed. It's almost enough to make him stop and join her, but he's already lost too much of his morning.

He's running late for a meeting with his manager. It's something which happens quite frequently since Mercedes moved in with him. He usually got up early and was mostly ready before her. That always led to him getting caught up in watching her get ready, which usually led to him starting some mess that he had to finish, which almost always led to a second shower and some more wet slick mess before finally getting ready for the day.

Sam's addicted and his drug of choice was Mercedes. When she yawned and stretched like a cat purring contentedly, letting the edge of the sheet fall to her waist, he admitted defeat, dropped his satchel, and stalked towards the bed.

"Un-uh, Sam, now I know that look. You're going to be late, _again_. Wes is a very understanding manager, but this is too much. The honeymoon's over, remember?"

"Says who?"

Playing with the edge of the sheet, Mercedes answers with a very meek, "Says me?" She looks up at Sam who has already kicked off his shoes and removed his tie. The look in his eyes makes her forget what they've already spent half the morning doing. It gets her ready to do it all over again. "No?"

Sam halts his forward progress, seemingly to reconsider. "I suppose you're right. We can't stay here making love all day, now can we?"

Blinking, already given over to lust, Mercedes stammers, "N—no we, we ca—can't."

"Then I suppose that I'm going to work." And with that Sam grabs his shoes and walks out of the room.

Mercedes feels as if someone just doused her with a cup of cold water. "What—what just happened? He—he left? He didn't even kiss me good-bye."

Just as her bottom lip begins to slide out into a pout, Sam bursts back through the door. Before she can get her mind right to give him a piece of it, he blankets her and kisses her senseless. Mercedes falls asleep in the midmorning light with the touch, feel, taste, and smell of Sam all over her.

Unfortunately in just a few short months the honeymoon was apparently over after Mercedes came down with some mysterious illness that eventually causes Sam to take her to the doctor. After going through motions the doctor leaves the couple in a quiet exam room while he checked on some test results. A short while later the doctor returns wheeling in a little machine on a cart.

Sam's heart drops. Extra little machines could only mean one thing: More tests because something was terribly wrong and they didn't know what. "Mr. and Mrs. Evans, congratulations are in order."

Mercedes looks over at Sam and finds him bracing himself for very bad news. She looks back at the doctor who continues with, "Mercedes is pregnant."

At the doctor's words Sam's head shoots up out of the cradle of his fingers. "What? Pregnant?" Hair mussed, with wild eyes he looks up at Mercedes and swallows hard. This was eerily similar to his first disastrous marriage. Unbidden, he is assaulted by heart gripping fear. Mercedes can see a thousand and one emotions wash across the sea of his green eyes. He stumbles over his words. "This go—this is thing." Shaking off his fear, quietly, very quietly, Sam takes Mercedes' hand in his and says, "This is a good thing, right?"

She places his hand over her stomach. They both know that their baby-to-be is still too small to really be felt, but it doesn't matter. Covering his hand with hers, she answers with, "This is the best thing ever."

"Cuz, I—I was worr—"

"I know."

"Be—because of Q—"

"I know."

The last few minutes have worked to heal long forgotten hurts and unvoiced doubts that Sam was still carrying. He thought he was happy the day he finally got to talk with her that day in the diner, but that was replaced with even more happiness when they finally married, but now this very moment redefines happy for Sam Evans. "I love you Mercedes Jones Evans."

"I know."

Life was good.

2

After watching him enter and leave the room for what seemed like the hundredth time, Mercedes laughs as Sam pauses to wipe a bead of sweat from his brow. He gives her a mock scowl. In a slightly mocking tone, Mercedes teases with, "What? You're the one who swore that we needed a bigger house. And a pool."

Working his mouth to swallow his initial response, all Sam says in reply is, "That is the last box."

Mercedes puts down her magazine with a little flourish. "Good, my neck and back need a good rub."

"How is that I did all of the unpacking and yet I'm the one kneeling here massaging your back?"

"When science allows for you to have the baby then I will gladly switch places. But this ain't the Cosby Show, and I know for sure I'm not carrying a hoagie." Rubbing her swollen belly more than he actually rubbed her back, Sam's face never fails to register wonder each time his touch causes a little kick or poke back. "Sam, I know you love it, but you aren't the one getting kicked from the inside."

Giving his baby-to-be one last kiss, he says, "I know something that will make us both feel better."

"What?"

"A dip in the pool."

Voice gruff, Mercedes says, "Here you go again with that pool. I don't know why we got a house with a pool."

Sam pulls her to her feet. "We needed more space, remember." He rubs her front and backsides.

They begin walking towards door that will lead them to the fenced in backyard. "Well, I don't even know how to swim."

Pausing to grab a towel from a box, Sam calmly replies, "I told you that I can teach you how to swim and I was a lifeguard at the Y for years."

Lips pursed, Mercedes asks, "And what about my hair?"

"It'll be perfect as always."

Desperately trying once more to avoid that damn pool, Mercedes announces, "So sorry, I don't have a suit that will fit me given my current condition."

A smile lifts one side of Sam's mouth just-so. Eyes gleaming, he replies with, "That's fine since suits are optional."

"Oh really?"

Sam pauses again, this time to press one firm hot kiss onto Mercedes' lips. "Yeah, I didn't plan on us doing much actual swimming anyway."

Her laughter breaks the kiss, and she starts some mess of her own by pushing him into the water.

"Cedes! I'm still wearing my clothes!" Melodic booming laughter is her only response.

Life was more than good.

3

The walls are a soft lilac color, perfect for a little girl and a princess-in-training. There are butterflies plastered to one of the walls in a dizzying pattern of sparkles and wings, and on another was a small desk, bed, and tons and tons of small white storage cubes stacked like the walls of a castle. Hooks that had bewildered Sam to install on another wall were quickly occupied by all manner of scarves, boas, dangly purses, and miniature fluffy ball gowns.

That day in the center of the bedroom sat a little table and 4 small chairs. Normally the weekly royal tea party was held in the castle courtyard (more commonly referred to as the backyard), but today it is pouring rain.

No problem, the Evan's clan is not deterred.

Slowly the dainty cakes (or as Sam called them tasty cakes), the tea, and the guests made their way to the room. Sam hold out a very small chair for his wife, in a rather poofy dress, topped off with a sparkly tiara (saved from their wedding day). He next makes sure that Hope, dressed in her favorite princess gown and mini tiara is seated before he takes his seat at the head of the table, taking extra special care not to muss his suit (of homemade 'armor'). Much to Sam's chagrin, everything went kind of haywire from that point on.

"No Daddy, you're doing it all wrong!" Sam quickly stifles his chuckle as his daughter slaps his hand away from the dainty treats tray. Rubbing his slightly red knuckle he thinks that tea parties are hard. "Daddy see how Mommy does it?" A little chubby finger points at Mercedes. "She is holding her cup the right way, with her little pinky in the air. When Mommy wants a dainty treat she asks by saying please and thank you." Fixing him with a wide but ultra-serious green-eyed stare, his little girl finishes his dressing down with, "No snatching and no slurping allowed."

Sitting up straight in the too small chair, Sam gives his little girl a swift salute. Ignoring the snickering coming from his wife's side of the table, he promises to do better. She just mutters that he's way better at slaying dragons and saving maidens than he is at tea parties. He looks longingly at his sword and shield stowed safely away in the corner. No weapons allowed at the table.

Later that night, just as Sam is trying yet again to start some mess, a little knock followed by a little voice interrupts them.

"Daddy, there's a mean dragon in my closet." Mercedes gets goosebumps, and before Sam leaves to slay his daughter's monsters, he gives his wife a quick warm hug. He know s that sometimes she thinks about the monsters no one was there to fight for her when she was their little one's age.

After just a few short moments, Sam returns declaring that the monster was slain and the young babe tucked back into her bed. "So where were we?"

Mercedes pulls him back down to meet her face, whispering, "I believe we were somewhere around here." Sam's hands resume their explorations under the edge of Mercedes light top. Just as things were starting to go further, there's another little knock, another little interruption.

From the crack of light cast by the recently opened bedroom door, Hope's sing-song voice trails into the room. "Daddy, Mr. Binky the bunny is afraid to go down his rabbit hole to sleep, because he's afraid of the dark."

Slapping Sam's arm, Mercedes just shakes her head. Sam dutifully returns to his daughter's room to turn a nightlight on for 'Mr. Binky'.

He returns, and again starts in on Mercedes. _Knock, knock…_Looking apologetically at his wife all Sam can say is, "Well at least she knocks first." Mercedes takes a swing at him with her pillow before burying her face in it to let out a silent scream of frustration. Laughing, Sam says, "I'll be right back."

Mercedes can hear her daughter tell him that Truffles the Ballerina Bear is afraid to go to her cave to sleep.

This time when Sam returns, he wastes no time picking up right where he left off. Wary, Mercedes is hesitant to allow him to lift her arms and her shirt up over her head. "Sam, are you sure she's asleep."

"Positive, you know 'Truffles' hates to sleep alone in that big empty cave of hers, so she's bunking with Hope, along with all of the other friends who didn't want to sleep alone." All that needed to be said was said, so that shirt is quickly dispatched.

There is no possible way that life was any better than this.

Everything around him is fading to black and the last thing he sees is Mercedes Jones Evans.

…

"Nooooo! That bullet was meant for you, you filthy whore!" Quinn goes ballistic, patrons flee and fall face down on the floor covering their heads with trembling hands. Very cautiously the lone hotel security guard in the lobby begins to approach Quinn. Mercedes stands there transfixed looking at Sam's too still body lying crumpled on the marbled lobby floor. She can see blood on the ground near his head. Without even a second thought, Quinn extends her arm out and shoots the hotel security guard. He's not dead, but he stays down.

Just as the second shot rings out, Sue and Rory enter the hotel with their guns drawn. They had been watching Mercedes since Sugar's OD. Waving off the other security guards, the two detectives race towards Mercedes and Sam. Seeing the police, but not caring anymore, Quinn lines the barrel of the gun up with Mercedes' crouching body and takes her third shot just as Rory launches himself to shield her. So intent on killing Mercedes, Quinn never sees the bullet that Detective Sue Sylvester fires simultaneously at her head.

…**Quinn…Quinn…Quinn…Quinn…Quinn…**

_I hope it gives you hell_…Quinn is running down empty streets. There are abandoned cars, trash blowing around, and vacant buildings and lots everywhere. Everything looks gray until she sees a cup, a red SOLO cup roll by like a plastic tumbleweed. She follows the cup hoping that it will lead her out of this hell she seems trapped in.

Up ahead there are banners and people. Everyone is dressed in bright festive colors. She thinks, _It's a party?_

There's music…_When you see my face; I hope it gives you hell… _Odd music for a party.

"What's going on?"

A random face in the crowd answers her questions. "Sam's book release party." In this gray place she still smiles when she hears his name.

Her smile disappears when the crowd parts on cue clearing a path for her to the door of the bookstore. Sam's book cover and back jacket are plastered, postersize on the windows. Mercedes is in the picture with him.

…_When you see my face; I hope it gives you hell…_

Everything around her is fading to black and the last thing she sees is Mercedes Jones Evans.

…**Rory…Rory…Rory…Rory…**

_Gah, I hope this was wort'it._

…

Sue thinks, _What a waste,_ as she clears Quinn's gun from her dead hands. Looking down at the body, she thinks, _Mrs. Fabray Evans I presume. _Sue believes the pictures didn't do Quinn justice, but with a bullet hole in the middle of her forehead, she won't be posing for any more pictures, 'cept for her last one at the city morgue.

After one hasty check for a pulse, Sue turns quickly from Quinn, glances over at Sam, and ultimately chooses (for reasons that will become apparent later) to rush over to Rory who is still lying on top of Mercedes. "Rory, are you alright?"

His eyes fly open. "Did you get her? I've me eyes closed. First time on the receivin end of a bullet there. WHOOOO! Ah made it didn't I?" He pats down his vest along with Sue, both of them stopping when they get to the place where the bullet is lodged.

His word vomit earns him a cool stare from Sue. "Apparently. Good to know that vests work. I wouldn't know since I've never been shot at. I do the shooting." Rory just smiles. "Wipe that smile off of your face Irish. This just means that I get to continue with your torture, I mean training after all."

"C'mon you were worried weren't ya?"

"No. I don't call you Lucky Charms for nothing." Sue gives him a small smile before saying, "I think you can get off of Ms. Jones now."

"Oh, ooh yeah. Sorry 'bout that." Rory rolls off of Mercedes, who is a little dazed and short of breath after being knocked over and laid upon by Rory, but otherwise okay.

Looking around, the first thing she sees are the frosted lifeless eyes of Quinn Fabray. "Qu—Sam! Where is Sam?"

"Right here." He's standing beside her and she can see that the bullet meant for her hit him in the shoulder. His head has a small cut too that's bleeding, and he's looking really stunned from the fall on the hard floor. He's trying to shake off what is probably a pretty bad concussion. He too glances at Quinn before turning back to Mercedes. "So, it looks like I won't be needing that divorce after all. You wanna go back upstairs?"

Now Mercedes is touching the tender side of her head gingerly with her hand. _Did he just say that?_ She's in a right tizzy, not sure if he's alright or if she's alright. Before Mercedes can answer she hears a uniformed officer tell Sue that she needs to get back. There was a massive shootout at the DoubleAdoubleC. They think the target was Becky, the only eyewitness to the Cochrane shooting.

Becky was hiding with Puck. And Santana and her other friends.

Holding out a bloodied hand, with red streaks on his arm and running lightly down the side of his face, Sam falters as he tries to rush towards the exit with Mercedes. Torn, she looks at him and comes to a reluctant stop. "Sam you're bleeding and you probably have a concussion. You can't drive and you should go to the hospital." Understanding, Sam nods his head.

The uniformed officer says, "We've got ambulances coming, so you should wait here and at least give your statement and get treatment."

Stuck, Sam tries to wipe his blood from his hands, but Mercedes grabs them anyway not caring. "Look, Mercedes, I'm pretty sure that I'll have to go to the hospital for stitches, but I don't want you out there alone. Not after everything that's happened. Can you come with me and we'll go check on your friends together?"

"No, they won't know where to find me and I need to make sure that they are alright."

"Then go to the apartment and wait for Puck and the others there."

Sue, overhearing the exchange, quips, "Rory, you make sure she gets there and keep an eye on her by, uhh, taking her statement." I.e. don't let her out of your sight.

"Yes sir."

Mercedes gently touches the still bleeding wound on the side of Sam's head. The hole in his shirt reveals a deeper wider gash in the flesh of his shoulder from the bullet. The bullet that was meant for her. It too is bleeding, but nothing fatal. They had survived. Telling him that she loved him one last time with her eyes, she turns and leaves with Rory, while Sue commandeers another vehicle from one of the responding officers. Catching snippets of the details of the shoot-out, as a no-name uniform brought Sue up to speed as the small group heads out the door, Mercedes steels herself for the worst.

It was time to see if her other friends had also survived.

* * *

><p><strong>Part Two: Murder, Mayhem, Destruction…Oh My!<strong>

…**Rogue's Gallery**

With trembling hands, Azimio rips open packet after packet of fresh gauze, packing it into the wound on Big Bubba's upper chest. It was a through and through, and from the looks of it, it missed hitting anything major. Bubba just sits there as Az unknowingly tells everyone present with his fussing that they are together. At this point Az doesn't care who knows. And as he helps load his lover into the back of his ambulance he is overheard saying, "Baby you need to start taking better care of yourself. You big hero…scared me half to death." Big Bubba just smiles.

…

Most of the hired muscle is in the system, or pretty well known by the organized crime task force, so Sue's team makes swift work getting Ids. Looking at the body bags lined up outside of the diner that inside looked like a warzone, with ambulances leaving like a never ending flashing train, Sue can only think of one word: Overkill. _Clearly she's trying to send a message and keep her people in line. Too bad she picked a fight with the wrong group._

As the police pick apart the scene of the largest shootout in Lima PD history, Sue decides to put both Becky and Lauren into protective custody. If The Beiste was willing to risk an attack in broad daylight in a public place like the DoubleADoubleC, then there's no telling what else she was willing to do. The Beiste lost almost every hired thug she sent, and Detective Sylvester is certain that she'd risk just as many on a second attack. Very quietly she arranges for a junior detective from her own unit to shuttle Becky and Lauren to a safe house, under express orders that Lima PD remain in the dark about the location. Until all of the rats are exposed, no one can be trusted. It can't be a coincidence that Hudson and Chang were somehow off fighting crime in another part of the city while the shootout on their beat went down. When Finn finally arrives on-scene, Sue decides to send him away to keep him out of the loop and out of her face. Figuring that her priority, the eyewitness Becky, was already on her way to the secret safe house, Sue makes Finn play chauffeur.

"Nice of you to finally join us officers. What happened? You forgot that the diner is in the middle of your beat? Accidentally turned your radio off? Stopped to take an extra long shit?" Horatio Cane style, Sue whips off her dark shades as she narrows her eyes at the approaching figures of Finn and Mike. If she weren't so bloody serious, you'd expect to hear a 'yeeaaaaahhhhhh' in the background.

Finn just smirks, while Mike takes in the destruction of the storefront and pales. Nonplussed, Finn answers with, "We were off on official police business. We got here as soon as we could, but I guess that wasn't in time to join the fun."

Finger extended and spit flying Sue gets in Finn's face, shouting, "Two of your fellow officers DIED and three more got wounded! At least one of them may not make it. You call that FUN?" Sue stands there with her chest heaving. "Answer wisely Hudson, your badge depends on it."

"Maybe 'fun' was a poor choice." Stepping back, Finn adds in a more sympathetic tone, "Look, we're here now, what do you need us to do?"

"Just get out of my face. And take Puckerman, Santana, and bobble-head blondie home while you're at it. Can you manage that?"

"I think we can." Tipping his hat, he turns and walks over to the trio, announcing, "Ladies and pimp, the fine city of Lima, Ohio will be providing transportation back to your hovels. Let's go, everybody in the squad car." Turning, Sue heads back into the mess that was now the diner, never seeing her miscalculation.

Puck and Mike start to walk to the car. Finn asks, "Cunt, you coming?"

Rolling her neck at him, Santana replies, "No you fucking pig. I'm going home with Britts."

Gaze rapidly moving between the two girls, Officer Hudson figures something out. "Huh, never pictured you for a lesbo. That's kinda hot."

Middle finger up, she says over her shoulder, "And you're completely fucked up."

Finn laughs at the back of her head, thinking, _Perfect_.

It was a 2 minute ride from the diner to Puck's. About 10 minutes into the ride, both Mike and Puck knew that something was going on. "Dude, where the hell are you taking me?"

"It's time to play a little game. Noah Puckerman, this is your life."

…**Ummm, We Knew this part was coming, right? :'(**

Attitude at full-cock, Finn glances at Puck in the rearview. "What if I told you that I could get you the one thing you want more than anything?"

Puck's brow furrows as he thinks about what he wants more than anything. _Beth._ Straining forward he shouts, "You bastard, you have Beth?" Even Mike turns to look at Finn after Puck's accusation.

Laughing in Puck's face, Finn answers, "No, but I know who does."

"You do?" Finn ignores Mike, instead checking for Puck's reaction in the mirror.

"Who?" Thinking about his current predicament, something else occurs to Puck. "I don't buy it. Even if you did why would you tell me? I ain't got the ransom money, so what's in it for you? Why would you just give her to me and not get the reward money for yourself?"

"I'm a police officer, and it's _my job_ to find Beth. I can't claim any of that ransom money personally without raising suspicions. Too many strings. And I never said that I had Beth, just that I know who took her."

Falling back into the seat, Puck attitude deflates after seeing the white lie wrapped in Finn's false hope. "I still don't know what's in it for you then. You already take just about everything from me that you want, what is it?"

Pulling into the parking lot of an abandoned warehouse, a grinning Finn says, "You'll see. It's time for a little family reunion of sorts."

After yanking Puck from the back of the squad car, Finn opens door to the warehouse, and none other than Matt-fucking-Rutherford is waiting there for them. Looking up he says, "Bout time you showed up Hudson." Taking a second, better look, he frowns and asks, "What's going on? What are they doing here?" He looks pointedly at Mike. "I thought you didn't trust him?" In that moment Mike knows that his cover is blow. How he's not sure, but Finn knows.

"Trust. Funny you should be the one to use that word. That's all you ever have between brothers, right?" His eyes slide over to Mike. "Brothers." Smiles faintly, "that's what you call him right Puck, your brother."

Weakly, Puck says, "Not recently." Louder, he asks, "What does that have to do with Beth?"

Finn sneers, "Why don't you tell him the truth Matt?"

Matt frowns. "Truth? I don't have Beth."

"You sure about that?" Finn crosses his arms, swaying on his feet, giving Matt time to reconsider.

"Positive."

"You don't know where she is?" Puck thinks back to the night before with Becky and Lauren in the apartment, right after Mercedes left with Sam. In the end Becky still wouldn't give up the shooter instead saying it didn't matter anymore because they were already dead. Puck remembered her actually looking sad about it. He thought it was strange at the time, but he didn't waste time thinking about a dead guy. He just wanted his little girl back. But now…_hmmmmm, there's something I'm missing, but what?_ IF Puck wasn't stuck in this standoff with Matt, under the watchful eye of Finn and Mike, maybe he would have figured it out, but he has more pressing matters to worry about. Somehow Matt was involved, and he's about to figure out how.

Becky swore that the killer didn't have Beth and to be honest she didn't even know if Beth was still alive, just that the killer was dead.

"No, I don't."

Mike knows that Matt has a tell, it's subtle, but being observant, he picked up on it pretty early on. "You're lying."

Matt looks nervously over at Mike. "Shut the fuck up. You don't know shit rookie."

"I know a liar when I see one." He cuts his eyes at Finn.

Finn starts laughing. Not even acknowledging Mike, he presses Matt further. "You put her away for safe keeping right? You're gonna use her for the ransom. Were you even gonna tell Puck?"

Matt starts to back away slowly. "That's not true. Puck, that's not true." He's pleading with his brother to believe him.

"Here, I think that this belongs to you, right?" Finn hands Puck his previously confiscated gun.

Staring at Matt, Puck raises his arm. "Truth Matt, now."

Matt shakes his head. "I didn't." Puck releases the safety and shoots a warning shot that just misses clipping off Matt's ear, causing Matt to crumple at Mike's feet. Mike pulls his gun on Puck. Puck puts the safety back on and begins to lower his weapon.

"Rookie, put that shit away before you accidentally shoot somebody." Mike keeps his gun trained on Puck, ignoring Finn. "Besides, I think he's gonna give us a full confession." Finn walks over and yanks Matt to his feet. "Ain't that right Matt?" Then Finn moves back to Puck's side as Puck again raises the gun and aims it at Matt's head.

"I—I admit that I thought about it, but that's all I did. THINK." Once more Puck releases the safety on the gun. "Okay, so maybe I went over a plan about a million times with the Beiste after I worked out the kinks, but I never carried it out. Somebody else beat me to it." Matt and Puck have a silent conversation with their eyes after the not-so-shocking admission. Matt Rutherford can see death in the eyes of the last person he ever thought would turn on him.

All Puck can think is, _First Mercedes, and now Beth._ _Some brother he turned out to be._ For just a moment Matt believes that he's earned a reprieve. Puck's eyes are closed, like he's meditating, and his arm lowers just a fraction. Finn's eyes are darting nervously back and forth between Matt and Puck. He's growing concerned that maybe Matt's slithered his way out of yet another problem. Mike never takes his gun or eyes off of Puck.

No one person should be allowed to poison the lives of everyone they touch just to score. He's worth more than that. His girls are worth more than that. Mercedes and Santana are worth more than that, and his Beth is worth more than any ransom money Shelby's estate could throw together. Somehow he's to play the part of hero in this twisted tale. After asking God to forgive him for what he's about to do, Noah Puckerman is ready to take the (low) life of another human being.

Slowly his eyes open and refocus on Matt. With a trembling hand Puck yells, "I'm gonna kill you!" Mike shouts for Puck to stop, causing him to turn slightly, swinging the gun towards Mike. Mike fires, hitting Puck in the chest. Finn takes Puck's gun while he stands there confused by the turn of events as scarlet blood spreads across his chest.

With sputtering breaths, he gasps, "Gu—guess I'm…I'm no her—hero after all." A thin line of blood is beginning to dribble out of corner of his mouth. "I refus—refuse to w—w—wwaste my last breath curs—ssseing you." Puck issues an airy chuckle. "You…you…" His left knee buckles, followed by his right. "already fucked." Then Puck smiles a wide pink tinged grin at Matt.

Puck is teetering on his knees, finally losing the strength to stay upright. He is pawing at the floor, slipping out on his palms in a slick trail of his own blood. On his side now, he keeps his eyes locked on Matt, before trying one last time to get up. He falls onto his back and except for a few scattered coughs, does not move any more.

Mike, gun now down at his side, is also standing there in shock. "I—I thought he was going to fire."

Finn says, "Oh but he did."

Finn fires one shot at Mike's head. Matt Rutherford stands there unblinking, face partially covered in blow back. He never meant for it to come to this. He never meant to kill anybody. Especially not Puck.

…**Mike…Mike…Mike…Mike…Mike…Mike…**

It's a club, a busy club, and currently the scene of one of the greatest dance crew battles Cleveland, OH has ever seen. The all Asian 'Dragon Crew' had saved their best for last. In full-on black leather, a shaggy haired guy they call Cinder is currently living up to his name and smoking the competition. Don't let his mascara fool you, this guy was born to dance.

He'd appeared on the scene only a few months ago and quickly found acceptance with the crew, working hard at the business, and earning a place in battle history.

In terms of the dance, this was absolutely the best night of Mike's life. He felt so free, as if his body had never been so fluid and responsive. He's doing tricks he's only imagined, and he knows he's pulling them off judging by the collective gasps of 'OHHHH ooohhh man did you SEE that?!' from the crowd. Just as he finishes up he experiences a twinge of sadness, because he knows that this will be his last night as Cinder dancing in front of the crowd as a member of the Dragon Crew.

After a decisive win, Mike's pulled into a back room to celebrate with his boys, and some scantily clad women, lots of booze and perennial party favorite, cocaine.

Dragon Crew was really just a cover for one of the most profitable and organized drug and sex rings trafficking in the tri-State area.

Mike fishes out some money and hands it to the woman sitting on his left. She pushes it back down into his pocket. "Not tonight, you won baby, and to the victor go the spoils."

Laughing at his good fortune, Mike leans in and gives the glitter covered woman a sloppy kiss. Then he takes a long swig of the bottle of beer in his hand. Across the glowing glass topped table, Tran, the leader of the crew is celebrating too. Gesturing to the lines his woman just put down, he holds Mike's eyes as he leans down and snorts. "WHHHOOoooooo. You know man, usually I don't partake, but tonight was incredible." Reaching across to give Mike a fist pound, he shouts, "You keep this up and everyday will be a party!"

Mike smiles and takes another pull of his drink. Tran passes him a small tube. His turn. Nodding in thanks, Mike shouts, "Well then, like the man said, let's get this party started!"

He makes a slow swan dive towards the table. He looks up at his boys cheering him on. Just before he takes a pull, all hell breaks loose.

Armed men in full SWAT gear swarm the room, shouting, "POLICE! Nobody move!"

Girls, partiers, sparkles, and drugs scatter like roaches, but no one escapes. Everyone is cuffed and thrown into lock-up.

Later, after a ride in the back of a police cruiser, Mike, Tran, and the other members of the Crew are placed into a holding cell.

Tran looks over at Mike, who looks like he wants to throw up. "Sorry man. With your skills you could have gone far." Mike looks puzzled. "I mean with the dancing. You know I got a cousin who works in LA on music videos. That kind of talent shouldn't be wasted in Ohio of all places. You're better than this."

"Really? Well how about when we get out?"

Tran shakes his head. "Nah man, I ain't getting out. This is my 3rd strike. I'll be locked up for the rest of my life."

Mike and his cellmates are silent for the rest of the night. One by one everyone arrested during the bust is either bailed out or gets transferred to another facility for an 'extended' stay. Mike and Tran are the last to go.

Finally, two officers come to lead them out. Mike to the left, towards freedom and Tran to the right, for a ride to the state penitentiary to await trial and sentencing. Just before he's re-cuffed, Tran gives Mike a parting pound. "I guess that sister of yours finally came through?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Do me a favor."

Mike looks at the officers warily. "Sure, What?"

"Don't worry, it's nothing il-le-gal." He draws out the syllables of the word mockingly. Mike laughs nervously. "Don't end up like me, 24 and locked up til I'm my grandad's age. I know it sounds corny as hell, right? But I'm serious. Fuck all this, it ain't worth it. You just got in with us. Forget us and dance, cuz that's why you're here. Not for _allegedly_ slinging drugs and banging hoes all day." The cuffs are put on, and the officer begins to lead Tran away. Over his shoulder he shouts, "But it was fun while it lasted."

Mike just nods as he watches his friend being led away.

Later in the Chief's office, Mike receives his usual praise for another job well done. "Wow Chang. That was the biggest bust in Ohio history. I mean I didn't believe the hype. I thought no way one undercover detective can be that good, but I have 50 pounds of coke and 6 million dollars sitting in the evidence locker to prove it."

"Thanks Chief. Just doing my job."

Pointing, the Chief asks, "So you keeping the hair and the eye shadow?"

Laughing a laugh he doesn't really feel, Mike says, "It's mascara, and no, I'm not." He shakes his head. "Like always, when I get my next assignment my look will all change with it."

The Chief begins to gather all of Mike's notes and recordings. "Where you headed to next?"

"Classified. But I'm fairly certain that I'm gonna need a haircut, some glasses, and a pocket protector." Some college professor was using a few of his students to supply their campus and surrounding areas with virtually perfect meth. Three deaths had already been attributed to their product.

"Classified, right…" Joking, the Chief says, "Well it's a shame to see the look go. Not every guy can pull of goth or emo or whatever the hell you call it." After placing everything into a locked evidence box on his desk he shakes Mike's hand one last time. "The Department thanks you for basically giving us the last 8 months of your life. You take care of yourself."

"Always."

The last face Mike sees before everything fades to black is Finn Hudson.

…

Mike falls straight down to his knees; gun slipping from his hand as he wordlessly falls forward partially blanketing Puck's legs with his torso. Finn reaches down and pulls the charm from Mike's neck, crushing the wire between his thumb and forefinger. Finn then smoothly rises to his feet and raises Puck's gun to shoot Matt. There are no more bullets left in the 6 shooter, and the silent clicking are all that happens when he pulls the trigger. Finn and Matt dive for Mike's fallen gun at the same time, both men wrestling with the gun between them. Matt cringes as he hears the third shot fired. The gun drops to the ground. Finn starts coughing as the bullet hitting his vest knocks the wind out of his lungs temporarily. Matt and Finn lock eyes, each mentally calculating their next move. Taking his focus on the still struggling Finn, Matt looks down at his friend. His only friend. Puck is fighting to breath, battling to stay conscious, blood bubbling up from his mouth onto his face, but he knows the truth.

…**.Puck….Puck….Puck….Puck….Puck….Puck…**

Everyone rises to their feet when they hear the traditional wedding march announcing that the bride is ready to walk down the aisle.

Puck is beaming with pride as he guides he beautiful little girl, now grown into an even more beautiful woman, towards her future husband. Lauren is helping carry her train down the aisle. Beth wanted the woman that she grew to call mom to be a part of her special day too.

"Who gives this woman away?"

Silence.

Beth nudges her dad with her elbow. "Oh sorry. Is it too late to say no? I don't want to give you up just yet. Can't we just keep you at home for a little longer?"

Beaming at her father, Beth shakes her head, and says, "No Dad, it's time. I love you so much and you never gave up on me, but it's time to let me go."

Puck takes a deep breath, stretching the seams going across the shoulders of his rented tux. "But I feel like I just found you." He blinks away his first tears. "Where did my little girl go? It all went by too fast."

"Awww Dad, she's still here, but…"

"But now Puck a lot of people are waiting to see Beth say 'I do'." Lauren takes one of her hands and runs it along the back of Puck's arm.

He gives her a sheepish grin, and turns apologetically towards the pastor and the groom. Quietly he says, "Sorry, for a minute there it was just me and my baby." The pastor nods. It's not the first father he's seen get cold feet. Puck turns to face the packed congregation gathered to witness the wedding and to celebrate shortly after the vows have been exchanged. In a voice that reaches even the back row, Puck apologizes for the second time. "Sorry. This is a lot harder for me than it is for her. Guess that means she picked a good guy to marry." _And that I ended up being a good dad after all. _Turning back to the pastor, Puck finally answers the question. "Me, I give this woman away and nobody better have any problem with it!"

That earns him a few chuckles as he and Lauren take their seats near the front.

The reception is all reds, white, and black. Red roses, white pearls, and shiny shimmery black fabric. A candle is lit for the friends and family that didn't live to see this day. After a moment of silence, Santana pops the cork off a champagne bottle, and announces that the party is on.

During the father-daughter dance, Beth can tell that her dad was struggling with a lot of things. He seemed happy and sad all at the same time. Swaying to the music, she leans down and rests her head on his shoulder. "Dad thank you so much. It's weird. I know this is supposed to be my big day, but I can't help but feel as though it's just as much your day as it is mine."

Puck voice rumbles up his chest to her ear. "Really?" He pulls back in order to look her in the face. "I'm sorry baby."

Puck's heart clenches as Beth gives him her 'Daddy Smile'. The one that has only and always been for him. Larger and more grown up now that she's 25, but still exactly the way he remembers it. "Daddy, you have nothing to apologize for. I will never understand how you were able to find me and give me the best life any little girl could ever want."

Puck purses his lips and blows out a calming breath. "How can you say that? Maybe you don't remember those early years."

"You mean the best ones. We didn't have a lot of stuff, but we had each other. That was all I ever needed."

Both father and daughter pause, forgetting to talk and even to dance while they listen to the soaring note Mercedes' hits. It brings awe, wonder, and even more joy to their faces as they turn back to one another to finish the dance.

"Dad! I cannot believe that you're like best friends with Mercy Evans! I mean I sorta remember her being around a lot when I was little, but that was before she turned into this big mega superstar." Harkening back to a previous time, she giggles and spins around in circles. "Best wedding present ever!"

"Glad I'm good for something."

Just as the music dies down, Beth rushes towards him, throwing her arms around him in a bear hug. Just before turning to dance her first dance with her husband, she whispers something into her father's ear. "More like everything. Dad you did good."

Letting her arms fall, Beth trails her hands down her father's arms. She gives his fingers a squeeze, holding on for as long as possible before joining her new husband. Puck drifts out of the spotlight, away from the newlywed couple, towards the edge of the dance floor. He sends a nod in the direction of Mercedes, his dearest friend.

He did good.

It meant just as much to him that Mercedes and Sam could make the wedding as it did to Beth. Probably even more. As he follows the glowing couple around the dance floor with his eyes, he glimpses the faces of all of his friends, really his family.

Santana, Brittany, Sam, Mercedes, Becky, his Lauren, and…

As the world fades to black, the last face he sees is his little Beth.

…

Matt is astonished to see Puck's face go calm and peaceful, with a smile spreading across his lips as his eyes flutter shut. He's dumbfounded and maybe, just maybe a bit humbled.

Finn's voice shatters the reflective silence. While still wheezing slightly, he says, "C'mon Matt that's not how this story goes. I gotta kill you, destroy some evidence, and then call this in. I gotta tell everyone how you tried to help Puck escape police custody because you didn't want him exposing your shit." Coughing, he points to the two men on the ground. "I'll tell them how Puck and Mike shot each other, and I killed you after you picked up Puck's gun. Don't matter that it's empty, no way I could know that in the heat of the moment." Nudging Mike's lifeless body with the toe of his shoe, he says, "You got lucky, so now that I've pretty much caught my breath and we can get this whole thing back on track."

Matt's not going to stand there and just let Finn kill him. He has to run, but he can't let Puck go out like this. In one swift movement he takes Mike's gun into his hands and bolts for the door. "Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck!" Finn shouts at his back as he races for the door. He needs Mike's gun or this isn't going to work. Taking off after Matt, he glances back over his shoulder at Puck. He thinks, _No bother, he'll die soon_.

After both guys leave Puck to die in a pool of his own blood, Finn begins a foot pursuit of Matt. Shouting out over his radio, "Officer down! Armed suspect fleeing on foot in alleyway between Walker and Shea Streets. Send a bus to the old Domino Sugar warehouse. Repeat officer down. Suspect Matt Rutherford is armed and considered dangerous."

**You Already Fucked**

His lungs are burning. His legs feel like hot rubber, but still he runs. He dashes across the street without looking, ignoring the random honking of cars and the smoke from tires forced to stop abruptly. He heads towards an alleyway full of trash, a few homeless dudes and one no name hooker. They look right through him, as if he's a ghost while he runs by, gun in hand. It's nothing out of the ordinary for the Lima Heights Adjacent warehouse district. They didn't see nothin.

Before about 3 minutes ago, Matt had never held a gun before in his life. He let others do his dirty work. He was always the brains, never the brawn. He stood behind and let others do the fighting. Looking over his shoulder, he sees the taller more lumbering figure of Finn Hudson turn the corner of the first alleyway. He's gaining on him. Matt heads for the residential district. There are more places to hide there, more people around, and less vacant buildings slated for demolition to hide his body in.

Just as he races past some kids sitting on a broken down stoop, he remembers that he's carrying the shiny black glock in his hand. Mike looks down at the foreign shape. It's heavier than he expected, and an unwanted burden he tosses into the nearest set of bushes the first chance he got. Sure he could have used it to kill Finn, who is most certainly hot on his heels trying to kill him, but in all the time he's spent around guns through the Beiste and her associates, Matt never learned anything about them. He didn't even know how to fire it if he had to. Again, his brain is telling him that it's stupid to toss the gun, that 5 year olds manage to accidentally shoot themselves in the heads with their daddy's guns everyday, so it couldn't be that hard…But he knows that if it came down to a gunfight in the alley, the cop was going to win. He'd rather run and come up with another plan. One that worked out better than his last plan. His last plan lost him everything. His girl, his job with the Beiste, his real job at the hospital, and his brother, Puck.

Puck.

The only thing he had left was himself, and if he couldn't figure out a way to shake Finn and disappear, Matt knows that he won't live to see tomorrow. He saw Finn blow Mike's head off. Swallowing hard, Matt looks down at his shoulder, where bits of brain still clung. "FUUUCKKK!"

_Crash…_

Matt catches Finn overshoot a corner and knock over some trashcans. Matt races towards the street, trying to put more city blocks between he and Finn. Suddenly Matt skids to a stop. He stands there at the fence of 123 Campbell Boulevard. He's racking his brain, trying to think about why he knows that address. _Keisha! _He'd been running so hard that the streets and houses had become a blur. He'd almost run right past. Smiling, Matt runs up to the front door banging hard enough to dent the cheap door and bloody his knuckles.

"What the hell!?" A woman, thin, dark, with her hair wrapped up in a scarf answers the door, wearing a pair of cotton shorts and a t-shirt.

"Keisha, it's me Matt. I'm calling in that favor."

Slowly she opens the door, revealing a small child on her hip with a pacifier in its mouth. "I don't owe you shit." The baby takes his pacifier and puts it in her ear.

Matt points to the baby. "Just shut the fuck up and let me in." Using her distraction with the baby, Matt forces his way into the woman's house.

He's only a little bit ashamed at his actions. She takes in his appearance, from the bloody clothes, the heavy sweat stains on his shirt, his wild and scared eyes, and his dirty, dust covered shoes. Frowning hard, she raises her hand to push him back through the door. "No you did not just bring some shit to my door. Get the hell outta hear, or so help me God, I will kill you."

Matt may not be a fighter, but he has no qualms knocking around bitches that he outweighs by about 30 pounds, that have to stand on a box to look him in the eye. He winds up and smacks her soundly across her exposed cheek.

The baby is too young to know what's going on, but even he drops the pacifier out of his mouth and begins to cry.

"You were saying bitch?" Keisha blinks back tears, and just shakes her head. "That's what I thought. I just need to hide out here for a little bit and then I'll be outta your life forever. And don't forget you owe me."

Keisha used to be one of Puck's girls. But she had a boyfriend that liked to beat on her, when he wasn't shooting drugs. He'd contracted HIV, but before he'd died, he didn't let that stop him from giving it to a few of his nearest and dearest. He also wasn't very faithful. Matt had seen Keisha at the clinic in the hospital where he worked. Not only did she get HIV from Leon, she also wound up pregnant. In exchange for what seemed like her very soul, Matt pulled some strings to get Keisha into a drug program for expectant mothers with HIV. The drugs would prevent her from passing the disease to her child. Matt convinced her that if Puck found out she was sick that he'd get rid of her. He agreed to help her out for unlimited access to only thing that Keisha had that Matt wanted. Her 12 year old daughter LaTrice. Yeah, life for Keisha had pretty much always been shit. Baby at 14, working on the streets by 16, and at the end of Leon's fist by 21. Puck, Mercedes, and Santana had made her life bearable. LaTrice ran away after Matt's first visit only a few weeks ago. Matt was still deciding if he should tell Puck about her, telling Keisha that she owed him big time since his prize bolted. He saved her baby (at the cost of another baby). In Keisha's eyes it wasn't worth it, but she didn't know how to get a real job.

"You should get rid of your clothes. They all bloody."

Matt looks at Keisha. "Alright. I'm sure you still got some of Leon's stuff in the back." Matt closes the blinds on the windows as he makes his way to the back room. He returns quickly with his dirty bundle. "Take care of this mess."

Keisha is standing at her kitchen counter, pretending to change her little boy's diaper. "I let you in, isn't that enough? Just go and put it in the back with the trash." She makes her eyes look watery, big, and pleading.

"Fine, but I'm gonna eat before I leave. And you better not burn it." He shows her the back of his hand again, causing her to flinch, as he makes his way past her into the back yard.

The last thing Matt Rutherford hears is a chorus of low, rumbling, growls.

"AAAAARRRHHHHGGGHHHHHH!"

Keisha smiles as she picks up little Trevon. Matt didn't know that along with sleeping around, heroin, and beating on her, Leon also liked to breed and fight dogs. Very big dogs. (I know right, this guy was such a _winner…) _Hell, leaving her his mama's old house, the baby, and the dogs were the only things Leon did right as far as Keisha is concerned.

The 4 dogs make short work of Matt.

Finn can hear the strangled screams, which end abruptly. He locates their source and pokes his head over the back fence just in time to see one of the dogs run off to his hole with Matt's left arm. He sees the silhouette of a woman and a small child in the back door. She can see him. He's not worried. He thanks her for helping him out with a nod of his head. He knows that if by chance someone were to knock on her door and question her later, she didn't see nothin.

Finn slides down the fence and retraces his steps, looking for the gun he knows Matt tossed at the edge of the neighborhood.

**Shunned & Stunned **

Sue happens to be in Chief Goolsby's office comparing notes when the shout rings out over the office intercom.

"Officer down! Armed suspect fleeing on foot in alleyway between Walker and Shea Streets. Send a bus to the old Domino Sugar warehouse. Repeat officer down. Suspect Matt Rutherford is armed and considered dangerous."

"I have a very bad feeling about this."

…

"Officer Hudson, what are you doing here?"

While Finn was chasing down Matt, every available officer converged on the warehouse where Mike and Puck were gunned down.

Up until now Finn had been surprisingly ahead of the curve. But once he reentered the abandoned building where he'd just shot his partner in the head, he knew that he'd overplayed his hand. Questions started flying at him from all corners of the space, and they were questions that he mostly couldn't answer.

"Why did you come back here Finn? Aren't you supposed to be out helping to track down the guy who did this to your partner?"

"Uhhh, I lost him in an alley."

"You LOST him in a fucking alley? Why the FUCK didn't you wait for back-up and join the door to door sweep?"

(Ooooh pick me, pick me, I know the answer to that one! Finn didn't wait for back-up because the cross streets that he'd been calling out on his radio during the foot pursuit were off. He just did that because he needed a record of him doing his due diligence, 'pursuing a fleeing suspect'. Not murdering another person. He didn't want back up or another cop accidentally stumbling upon Matt before he got to him.)

Shrugging his shoulders, Finn mumbles, "I wanted to see if Mike pulled through."

"How many partners you had that got up and walked off a bullet to the head?"

_What the hell is that supposed to mean? They know, already? HOW?! _It is getting hard for Finn to breathe again. The flurry of activity seemed to slow down to a snail's pace, and it felt as if every eye in the room, even Mike's and Puck's were glued to him. Pulling at his collar with a dirty finger, he mutters, "No—none."

"Where is Officer Chang's gun?"

Truth, currently burning a hole in the small of Finn's back under his vest. "I dunno. Must have slid under one of the containers when he went down." Finn is starting to quietly panic.

"Is that so?"

Nodding is all Finn can do at this point. He tries to make his way over to one of said containers to hide Mike's gun. He stops when two uniforms move to block his way.

"Where you slinking off to Hudson?" Quickly they force him back to the center of the crime scene. "We got a lot more questions for you."

Rather than being given a hero's welcome when he returns to the warehouse, Finn is stripped of his gun and badge and placed on house arrest until all of Mike's recordings and reports can be reviewed. He'd hoped to have time to destroy everything before everyone started asking questions, but he didn't figure on Matt running with the gun or on having to call for backup before he was ready. He also didn't know that Sue, Rory, _and_ The Chief all knew that Mike was undercover. Mike was IA, but he was brought in special at the request of Chief Goolsby. The only thing he'd gotten right is that Mike hadn't gotten a chance to tell them what he's really been up to. There just hadn't been time.

…

_Bang bang bang, ring ring ring, buzz buzz buzz_.

At the same time someone starts loudly knocking on the door of the apartment, the phone starts ringing, and so does Mercedes' cell phone. While she answers the door, she answers her cell. Both people have the same message. In a weird freaky ear stereo, Sandy and Santana both shout, "Puck's been shot and he's on his way to the hospital!" Mercedes grabs Sandy's hand and runs from the apartment leaving the door open in her haste.

Rory is close on their heels. "Let me drive. I'll even turn on my siren."

* * *

><p><strong>End Notes:<strong>

Wow.

So to recap, I've finally offed Quinn. It was weird for me to have Sue do it and feel nothing, but in this story they don't know each other.

Sammy was just deeply grazed, being all heroic and shit. Lawdy, if that officer hadn't shown up when he did, I would have been forced to write Mercedes thanking him over and over and over and over again for risking his life to save hers. (And my smut writing skills are horribly shady…) Just like Sam, I dodged a bullet there! Ba-dum-bum. Well at least he'll have a manly scar to show his grandkids.

And let's try not to be too surprised. I think we all knew that Mike was a goner from the get-go. Sorry my dears for that.

Hells Yeah Matt Rutherford getting eaten alive by dogs!

But Puck…Oh, what did I just do? It was not supposed to go down like that originally, but I went and changed it all. Now I think _I _need a moment and a big glass of wine. Who's with me?

Things get wrapped up rather nicely in **CH 13: Whodunit and other Whatnots** where you'll find out if you've picked up on all of the clues that lead to a killer and a kidnapper. Only two more chapters left!

P.S. My darling **emzjuk** wanted Mike to have a nice ending (so I gave him one in his last vision!) and yes, I ref'd a Mariah Carey cover song, and a few others.

Thanks for reading and I hope that you liked it!


	14. CH 13: Whodunit and other Whatnots

**CH 13: Whodunit and other Whatnots**

**Dear readers, Please forgive me for my absence. I am battling a bout of depression. I have been super encouraged by the attention my writing is still getting despite the lack of recent updates. And it really does brighten my day when any one of you I consider a friend sends me a PM in all CAPS just to make sure that I am still alive, if not entirely well. Funny thing, I never stopped writing, I just stopped turning on my computer to type the updates, or to do pretty much anything else. It was mostly done, but I just couldn't finish.**

**I believe that I am **_**finally**_** climbing out of that pit, so here is the second to last chapter in this dark little tale. Sorry for any mistakes, I am determined to finish this (but I am sooo tired…)**

* * *

><p><strong>Part One: Lima General<strong>

…**Hookercon**

One of the newbie resident doctors is seen high-fiving another. As the seemingly never ending flow of scantily clad flesh streams by, they mouth in a hoarse whisper, "Best day EVER". Never before had the hospital emergency room and hallways been the center of such a convergence of Playboy bunny wannabes. Glancing about the room one of them notes: There was the good, like that Latina who almost got herself arrested when the docs from the 4th floor hauled off that spacey blond. There was the bad, which could be the Latina too considering the threats she hurled, or it really was most of the women in the crowded emergency waiting room. They were all, for lack of a better term, diamonds in the rough. You could see the pretty if you could get past the exteriors. They were dressed to work the strip or the pole, too made up, easy access everywhere, fake this, sparkled that…but they clearly had hearts. And that brings us to the ugly… otherwise known as Roz. Typical overdone drama-whore. She's been bawling the loudest since the collective arrived all bent out of shape over that shooting victim the cops brought in. He suspects that she wasn't as close to the victim Noah Puckerman as some of the other women who look like the sun just went black. He wants to call Puckerman the luckiest guy in Lima, but he thinks the dude with the Mohawk and the hole in his chest is probably just a pimp. Cops are still milling around too. Maybe luckiest guy in the world was a bit much, but the newbie couldn't help but wonder, _How many people would drop everything and race to the hospital for me? _He casts one more look at the outrageous assortment in the room before thinking, _Clearly this Puckerman has heart too. Now I gotta go and help Dr. Crusher put it back together again. _

Roz is getting hysterical shouting, chanting, "Save our Pimp!"

One of the other women shouts back, "Shut-up Roz, Puck wouldn't touch you with his ten foot pole and you know it!"

Scattered 'yeahs' and even a few chuckles can be heard as Roz begins choking on her next chant. All of the smiles fade when one of the curtains is drawn back momentarily. Everyone grows very silent when they finally stop working on Mike. Puck was at least stable enough to go up to emergency surgery.

Roz asks, tone completely serious, "But they're still working on Puck right?" And then that crazed edge returns to her voice. "RIGHT?!"

One of the officers shares a look with the doctor. Rather than answering her question, he says," M'am I'm gonna need you to calm down or I'll have to call security."

Before Roz can get herself tossed, Mercedes rushes in with Sandy.

The first person they see is Roz who is all doom and gloom about how Puck first looked when he was brought in. "You should have seen him. So much blood everywhere, dripping, NO just gushing out of him leaking all over the floor. His chest bloody bits. His eyes never opened, and…and …" Then she realizes that maybe the total honestly isn't super helpful right just then. Sandy and Mercedes stand there, absorbing the news.

Another doctor comes out. He makes a brief stop at the nurse's station, and then turns back around scanning the room and hallway with a frown. Mercedes rushes forward. "Are you working on Puck…I—I mean Noah Puckerman?" He nods. "Do you need to—to tell us something, so—something bad?" He shakes his head no. She purses her lips and releases a breath of air. "Oh thank goodness. Did you need something from us? His blood type or something? He's not sick, no diseases, no medication or anything. I—I think at least a few of the girls could donate blood if—if that's what you need."

The doctor shakes his head again. "No." His jaw develops a slight tic as he forces out the words. "M'am…what I need is a family member to discuss surgery options with."

Santana, Sandy, and even Roz pull up short, moving to stand tall behind Mercedes. She replies quietly with, "We're all the family he's got."

He gives the assembled gallery a onceover. "Sorry, I really am, but rules are rules. Real family only." The women shake their heads, their concern obvious. "Look, all I can tell you is that he's in surgery and we will do our best to keep him alive."

The girls walk away dejected.

Mercedes feels a hand rubbing her back. Without even turning around she knows the touch of her very dear friend, Santana Lopez. She tries to smile. "He's still in surgery, so he's not dead."

"Yeah, and they have to do everything they can to keep him that way. I ran into Sugar's daddy. He knows that Puck took care of Sugar and he's gonna pay for everything. They can't stop working on him until they fix everything. They can't." That makes Mercedes smile for real, even though Santana sounds as if she's trying to convince herself too. Even though she's the one who called Mercedes, Santana wonders if pulling her into their latest mess was the right thing. Mercedes practically had a breakdown not two days prior. "Now tell me, and be honest, how are you doing? Last time I saw you, you were all drugged and horny." Santana manages a dirty smirk.

"Thanks for that by the way." Smiling a bit more, Mercedes tries to fill her in on everything that happened. She starts with the most unbelievable thing and works her way back. "Quinn is dead."

"What?"

"She got a gun from somebody and tried to kill us when we checked out. But Sue and Rory had been following us. She got off a few shots, but Sue killed her." Mercedes intertwines her fingers with Santana's. "First Sam tried to take the bullet, but she missed. He's banged up, but that's all. Rory was the one who took a bullet for me. He saved my life."

"Rory, that kid who can't speak English?"

"Yeah, but he was wearing his vest so we all walked away…well everyone except for Quinn." Looking at a slightly disheveled Santana, Mercedes remembers that she wasn't the only person dodging bullets that morning. "What about you? We heard about the shootout. Is that where Puck got shot?"

Shaking her head, Santana steels her voice and says, "No. Those cheap-ass punks that Beiste hired weren't nothing. We basically had'em until their backup rolled in. Then we all just scattered and hid until the cops got there."

Confused, Mercedes asks, "So if basically everyone made it, how did Puck get shot?"

"That fucking pig." They locked eyes, and Santana didn't have to say Finn's name. "Sue told him and his partner to take us home while they sorted everything out. I bailed and left with Britts. Becky and Lauren were already gone, witness protection. I guess Sue thought that Mike would keep that fucking pig honest." Santana's chest rose and fell with a deep sight. "She thought wrong. He took Puck to some abandoned warehouse in LHA and all fucking hell broke loose. All I know is that Mike's dead, Matt's dead, Puck is supposed to be dead, and Finn…" Her eyes lose their warmth for just a moment. Her voice drops, lest some of the uniforms around them can overhear their conversation. "As soon as I know Puck's alright, I'm gonna kill him." She looks wildly at Mercedes. "Don't try to stop me 'Cedes. He's deserves to die, not to rot in some prison."

"I agree with you, but do you have to be the one to do it? I—I mean killing someone, even someone who deserves it, will weigh on your soul."

"I'll have help, and I just can't sleep knowing that he's hurt us all so bad." The tough-girl façade starts to crumble. "He's killed Puck, our Puck."

Mercedes pulls Santana into a fierce hug. She can feel Santana's wet tears dampen her hair and shoulder. "He's not dead and just like you said, they can't stop. Not with the richest guy in Ohio footing the bill." Santana pulls away and quickly wipes away her tears. "Girl, I know it looks bad right now, real bad, but I think that things are finally turning around." She wipes away the last of Santana's tears. "You are not allowed to give up hope. It's the 11th hour, hell, we live in the 11th hour. And we always pull through."

Santana tilts her head to one side. "What did that boy lay on you in that fancy hotel? You're the one giving me the pep talk?" Mercedes shakes her head and shrugs. "Seriously, you got to the 'can't give up hope' pretty damn quick given the circumstances. Who are you, and what have you done with my Mercedes?"

"I know, and it's probably the drugs wearing off, shock, and quite possibly a minor concussion." She rubs the tender spot on her head where she landed when Rory saved her life. They laugh, which breaks some of the building tension.

"But you are doing alright? For real, no more breakdowns with all this new drama?"

"No, I'm good for once. I think my brain has given up trying to make sense of everything. I'm not dead, Sam's not dead, you're not dead, and right now at this moment, neither is Puck. We just have to get through this. I mean Sugar's in a coma, and I thought she had died, so there's that."

Santana stiffens. "I don't want coma Puck, I just want Puck."

"Baby we all do, but it's not always that simple. There's a lot that could happen between now and whenever he gets out of surgery". She looks solemnly at Santana. "Can we just pray that he makes it off of that table before we start thinking of the million and one things that could still go wrong?"

"Yes." She drops her head without being prompted and remains that way until she hears Mercedes say Amen. "But I'm not gonna lie, it'll be weird if he's, I don't know, not Puckzilla. If he never gets any better than, than whatever he's gonna be when they save him." Once more she pulls Mercedes' hands to her chest. "They're gonna save him, right?"

"They're gonna save him." Mercedes looks around, hoping maybe to see Sam all stitched up and by her side again.

"I know that look." Mercedes tries to hide a shy smile. "I get it. Even though she didn't have a scratch on her they're giving Brittany a mini psych evaluation because she said she saw a unicorn following Puck's gurney when they first brought him in."

Mercedes snorts instead of laughing. This life of hers was sad, happy, and ludicrous.

"I know, she's _special_. But she didn't look too worried, says it happens all the time." Shaking her head at her girlfriend's idiosyncrasies, Santana continues with, "What I was trying to say was that I know you miss him even though he's probably just down the hall somewhere behind one of those curtains. It's like you're missing your right hand."

"So soon…too soon?"

"No, when it's right it's right." Finally calming, Santana confesses, " I'm sorry that all this pulled you away from your little escape with Sam, but I couldn't stand here and go through this without you." She drops the side of her head to Mercedes' shoulder. "Brittany is my heart, but Cedes, you're my rock. I'm just glad that you could drag yourself away from that fluffy sex den he carried you off to."

"Sex den?" Mercedes pretends to push Santana away. "Hardly. But girl, this mess. You have no idea. One minute we were leaving, then getting shot at, and _then _Sam was trying to pull me back upstairs. Before the news of the diner shootout dropped, let me just say that there was some major hanky panky in the works."

Santana cuts her eyes at Mercedes. "Don't you mean wanky? _WANKY_! Who says hanky panky?" Shaking her head, all she can mutter is, "I'm judgin you Cedes, judgin you."

Again, the girls dissolve into laughter that really boarders on crying.

Santana fights back her tears and reiterates that Puck is going to be okay.

Brittany it seems has finally been released from the clutches of the 4th floor. As she walks over towards Santana and Mercedes, she announces, "So, look who I found wandering around the cafeteria."

Mercedes doesn't fight the full smile from spreading across her face. Standing next to Brittany, who was given a lollipop for her troubles, is a freshly stitched Sam. He pulls Mercedes into a huge hug. He wants to kiss her, but he thinks that she'd prefer privacy. At this point Mercedes doesn't care. He's not married and he's not dead or lying in a coma or in surgery. He's standing in front of her bandaged and whole. Wholly hers. She pulls him down by the collars of his shirt, closes her eyes, and leans forward, silently praying that he meets her halfway. Even though the move catches him off guard, it's already hardwired into his brain that if Mercedes is passing out kisses, he's going to take them. Sam's eyes go wide catching a fuzzy glimpse of Santana and Brittany already kissing before they close and he melts fully into Mercedes' kiss.

…

Sue and a special task force collaborate and quickly break up drug ring Matt was running at Lima General. On her way out she grabs Mercedes. "Pardon me Lady Lips, but I'm going to need to borrow Hot Chocolate there…" Sam and Mercedes reluctantly break off the kiss and panic quickly sets in as the detective places her hand on Mercedes' forearm. "Don't worry your unusually pretty little head. She's not in trouble, and I promise to return her to your gaping maw unscathed."

It's not like they had any other choice but to comply, and Sam, Santana, and Brittany watch in silence as Mercedes is pulled into an empty room with Detective Sylvester.

* * *

><p><strong>Part Two: Who lost that bet?<strong>

Turning to fix an icy glare on Mercedes, Sue opens by saying, "I have a feeling that I'm about to close the Corchrane murder/kidnapping case. Do you share in that feeling?" Mercedes nods her head. "Where's the baby?"

"I don't know."

"Well who killed Shelby? They have to know where Beth is." Mercedes' mouth opens and snaps shut. "No more lies Mercedes. I can only keep you out of this if you come clean."

"Alright, it was Sugar. Sugar killed Shelby, but I'm sure she didn't mean to. Besides, she's in a coma, probably forever, and Matt is dead. Finn is like the walking dead, only he don't know it yet." Sue's non-response to her confession gives Mercedes a bit of confidence. "I'm pretty sure that Puck thinks it was Matt and I'm perfectly okay with that." She looks at Sue, searching for the answer to her next question. "Are you okay with that detective?"

Sue smiles a sinister grin as she imagines Finn as a shambley mindless zombie. She's no fool. She understands perfectly well what Mercedes is saying. Sue Sylvester is not perfect, nor has she ever pretended to be. She gets the job done, and as far as she's concerned, her job is done. "Well Hot Chocolate, I think I am. But what about the baby?"

"I dunno. I'm sure she'll turn up. All I know is that she's safe and alive cuz Sugar wouldn't kill her and Matt never figured out that she was the one who took her in the first place."

"For now that's all that matters."

Mercedes looks at Sue. "You knew it was Sugar already didn't you?"

"It was when you gave us Matt the mastermind that 95% of it clicked into place." Sue flashes $50 she won when Rory lost that bet. "After we talked to you I had Rory follow-up with Kurt." Sue shakes her head. "Rory of all people cracked him in record time. He admitted that someone else ran by him in the alley after he heard the shots, knocking him down. He swore that all he caught was the frantic click of some Gucci heels. _Real_ Gucci heels; of that Kurt was certain." Sue snickers. "Boy tried to throw you under the bus, withheld key evidence, but he knows his heels." Her smile turns almost sinister. "Now you and I both know that only one person could walk these streets in real Gucci heels, that just so also happened to have access to Puck's apartment, where they could borrow his cell and gun for a little kidnapping gone wrong."

Growing worried for her friend, Mercedes' brow furls.

"No way she thought of all of that on her own, but I bet she _heard_ that plan a million times as Matt got the Beiste's people prepped and ready to do the kidnapping." Cackling, Sue says, "The Beiste blew all those resources trying to figure out who killed Shelby and took the baby effectively cutting her off from a big payday for the ransom money." It was almost funny for real the entire ordeal was so bungled, almost. "She thought it was Matt, Matt thought it was Finn, and Finn is an idiot who never had a clue. Eventually they would have figure it out if they had known that Puck's cell and gun were used in the crime, but they never found out that part of the investigation. We knew Finn was dirty to some degree so we kept a lot from him."

Mercedes gives Sue look of begrudging respect. She was the real deal.

"I knew it was either Matt or one of you girls even before I hauled you in for questioning. But it was pretty clear that Santana didn't have opportunity or motive, and you had an alibi. That only left Sugar or Matt. When you kept talking about your blanket, your pink blanket, and I had you do that visualization exercise, that's when _you_ figured out it was Sugar."

"I didn't know it at the time, but that was the missing piece of the puzzle for me." Mercedes had known all along, but didn't know it until she talked to Sue.

Clicking her teeth, Sue points at Mercedes. Their conversation was a real light-bulb type moment. "You figured it out then and once I saw her in the hospital, it all clicked into place. That pink hat of hers, that pink blanket of yours…you saw her running by the window of that john's car with the baby, but you didn't remember it clearly until I questioned you. Becky knew that the Beiste wanted Sugar's entire family wiped out for her inheritance money so she never gave her up."

With the Beiste's world crumbling around her Becky has been singing like a bird. "She knew that Matt would kill Sugar himself if he knew what she'd done, or maybe just out of spite since she somehow fooled him too. But Becky also realized that with Sugar dead we'd never find out where that crackhead hid Beth."

Mercedes sets her hand on her hip. "Sugar is not a crack head. Pill head yes, crack head no."

"Potatoes, potahtoes. Either way, she was high, shot somebody, and kidnapped a baby. But it's all water under the bridge now given her current condition."

Oh Sugar. Mercedes makes a mental note to go and see Sugar before she leaves the hospital.

"Of course, we never figured on Sugar trying to kill herself out of guilt before I figured it all out. No one did. I think if Sugar had been of sound mind and not high as a kite she wouldn't have shot Shelby. As far as I'm concerned our killer was mauled to death by dogs as he fled the scene of a shooting that resulted in the death of detective Michael Chang and in the serious injury of Noah Puckerman. The whereabouts of the baby are still unknown, but we won't stop searching." Sue jerks her head towards the door, which Mercedes gratefully pulls open. She steps out into the hall, eyes still trained on Sue.

Something is still nagging at her. Mercedes asks, "So you're okay with that…lying? I mean, aren't you a cop?"

"Detective actually, and I'm more than okay with that."

* * *

><p><strong>Part Three: Pesky Loose Ends<strong>

…**Justice**

"Hello Officers." The smell of delicious food, prepared by none other than Mama C-Chang wafts into the police cruiser stationed outside of Finn's house. Unbelievably the judge granted Finn (one of Lima PD's finest innocent until proven guilty) house arrest until his trial.

"Hi. Can we help you with something?"

She smiles coquettishly. "I have all these extra specials and no one to eat them." She moves the food closer to the open window.

The officers' exchange excited looks. One of them answers with, "I think we can help you with that."

They were there to make sure that Finn made it to trial. To make sure that he didn't sneak out and leave and that no one else snuck in to kill him. Justice had to be served, blah, blah, blah. Mama C-Chang is a big fan of justice too. That's why she's there, to help Tina and Santana serve justice for those who can't do it for themselves.

Perhaps more dedicated officers could have been chosen to watch Finn, but he was a cop killer. If they could have killed him themselves they would have.

…

_Whirrrrrrrrrrrrrr…_

Finn smiles as he's buffeted by a blast of warm air. He's dreaming of running away to some tropical paradise where they had no extradition policy and he'd be free to start over. His smile fades into a frown as the warm air turns real and begins burning…

"Oh shit!" Finn tries to sit up, only to discover that he's handcuffed spread-eagle to the bed. The only thing he can move is his head. He's coated in a sheen of slick sweat. It's dark, but there is one lone shaft of light illuminating the bed. Slowly he turns his head to the right. He sees a shadowy figure standing there. Definitely female. The woman's head turns and Finn instantly knows who it is. Even drugged he'd recognize that ponytail swish anywhere.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" He pulls even harder at the cuffs, causing them to dig in to his wrists, leaving thin bloody lines. He can't really feel anything yet, but instinctively he knows that he should be scared. There's only one reason for her to be there.

…

Outside the laughter being shared between the officers and Mama C-Chang drowns out any low screaming that may have drifted from the house. Or at least that's what the officers will claim in their report the next morning.

…

"Ahhh, glad to see that little sedative we gave you has finally worn off."

_Click…_

Another light is turned on, filling the room with pale yellow light. Finn blinks rapidly as his eyes sluggishly adjust.

"What the fuck are you doing in my house? H—how did you get in here?" Still slower than usual, he belatedly adds, "W—we?"

Santana pretends to be puzzled. "Hmmm, of all of the questions you could have asked…hmmm."

Another voice floats over to the bed from the darkness in the far side of the room, near his closet. "Maybe he's in shock?" Tina steps into the light.

Finn swallows hard, his eyes looking up at the ceiling, moving frantically around. He feels a numbness that he didn't know was there rapidly fading away. He turns his head to the left, away from Santana and Tina, who are now leaning over him smirking.

His brain is still muddled by whatever they gave him to allow them to do whatever it is they came to do to him. He's trying to force his eyes to focus on the pillow next to him. The more he panics the faster the sedative leaves his system. The more he panics the faster his blood pumps. The more he panics the faster the numbness wears off. He lifts his head and lets the first tear fall.

"Wh—what's that?"

The girls look at each other. In unison, they say, "Wait for it, wait for it…"

Finn's body finally get's in sync. The image in his eyes is unscrambled by his brain, which then connects it with the pain he can feel between his legs, which explains the light headed feeling you only get when you lose a lot of blood. He remembers something important…_You keep your word or you will wake up to your fuck stick on the pillow._

Now Finn is in shock. There are only the barest moments left before he really loses his shit. Santana smiles at Tina. "Looks like cuntface just got a clue."

"What do you think, time for the gag?" Tina holds up ball gag.

Santana shakes her head vigorously. "I want to hear him scream."

Tina smiles. "Me too. And don't worry, Mama C is real good. She'll keep those cops outside busy all night if she has to."

Santana pulls out her favorite blade. "She's gonna have to."

…

No one looked too hard into the murder of disgraced police officer Finn Hudson. He was in so many pieces by morning that it took investigators months to realize that one piece was missing. Despite his bedroom being painted in blood, no trace of any forced entry or intruders was ever found. No one police questioned heard or saw anything. Besides, by that time enough evidence had been found to link him to the deaths or serious injury to several officers, civilians, and to put him on the payroll of the Beiste. So, either way he was fucked.

A rumor, started by Mama C-Chang, began circulating that Finn was cursed for what he'd done to Artie, Mike, and the others. A blade wielding demon had killed him.

Close enough.

…**And let's not forget about Ms. Z-I-Z-E-S**

Lauren turned state's evidence against the Beiste on two conditions: Full immunity and that Beth learn the truth about her family, her real family. Not Quinn, but that in addition to Shelby, she has a father who loves her too.

Finally, a woman after Sue Sylvester's own heart. "You know where Beth is?"

"Yup."

"Fine, from what I heard the Beiste has so many enemies that she won't make it to trial anyway. You my large lady have got yourself a deal."

And Sue was right. Before the ink had dried on Lauren's deal the Beiste got herself ganked during an unfriendly group shower.

* * *

><p><strong>End Notes: <strong>

Sure the rules got bent, but I don't really care. It's fanfiction for Pete's sake; I didn't think there were rules…

Okay, so there's still one more little mystery to solve, but clues have been dropped like glowing breadcrumbs.

Up next the long awaited conclusion to this dark little story with the fairytale ending, **CH 14: Cede's Song AKA The Tilt-a-whirlwind Romance**, where we find out how the new book did, where Beth has been hiding, and catch up with our motley crew in a 6 months later type deal.

Must use: 'hanky panky/wanky wanky' line for **bubblzzify**, and 'cuntface' for **jollyrancher-25**, cuz although I practically dropped off the face of the earth for a short while there, I try to give the readers what they want. Unless they want timely updates…clearly I can't do that.

* * *

><p><strong>Bittersweet Bonus: Harrowing Goodbyes &amp; Sweet Hellos<strong>

The new official couple is standing at the end of a long empty hallway. It's the kind of hallway they'd use to shoot a slasher flick. You just know some chainsaw wielding psychopath was waiting around the corner. In truth the only other person anywhere near that hallway is a police guard.

This is also the kind of hallway where they stashed long-term patients. People like Puck, status still unknown post surgery and Sugar Motta, in her post OD coma. The couple stands there together looking at two doors on opposite sides of the hallway. Behind one lay Puck, behind the other lay Sugar. Puck had almost died for the chance to have just about everything he'd ever really wanted. Sugar had almost died after throwing away just about everything that most people really wanted. None of this made any sense, but Mercedes is so used to it, that she's numb.

Mercedes shivers and Sam runs his hands up and down her arms. It is the day that never ends.

Sam reaches for Mercedes' hand. "We could go one at a time or together if you want."

"No." Mercedes pulls her hand away from Sam's. "I owe this to Sugar even if she's brain dead or whatever it is they're saying. And you—y"

"I know. I owe just as much to Puck for taking care of you."

"Besides, I can't see them both, not like this."

"I understand. I'll tell Puck that you're pulling for him."

They cast one last glance back at each other before entering, Sam into Puck's room and Mercedes into Sugar's.

…**Contradictions**

Mercedes stands there for what feels like an eternity staring at Sugar's face. She looks at peace, finally. Gone are all of the traces of drugs, or the life she chose for herself on the streets. She's in a leopard print hospital gown, hooked up to all of these monitors and machines. And someone had brought her hat and placed it on her head. Mercedes thinks her dad must have come.

Mercedes looks down at her knitting bag. Sugar's hat was looking a little worse for wear. She thinks, _Now our magic hat can't be in tatters can it Sugar. It has to be ready for when you wake up. _Aloud Mercedes repeats her plea. "Sugar please wake up."

Sugar continues sleeping and Mercedes slides the knit hat off of her head. She pulls the chair in the corner closer to Sugar's bedside and sits down with a heavy heart.

As she works the two needles through the yarn, Mercedes opens the door that she'd locked earlier. Earlier when everyone looked to her to be their beacon. In this dim little room with an almost dead girl and a girl who only recently touched what life really had to offer, truth spilled out.

"Sugar, I'm so sorry that I couldn't save you. God knows I tried, but you were so stubborn and hell bent on destruction. I just don't understand why. I know that drugs make people do some messed up things, but you could have stayed right in your mansion, strung out every day. Why did you think that you needed to be down with everybody else?"

"I don't get it. Your daddy loves you, like a daddy should. I never ever would have given that up. But I've never been hooked on any of that stuff you liked to take. And maybe you didn't know just how good you really had it."

Mercedes wonders if it still counts to speak ill of the almost dead too? Feeling guilty, Mercedes slides Sugar's hat back onto her head and changes the course of the one-sided conversation.

"Maybe you knew the truth. Maybe that's why you stayed." Mercedes looks at Sugar's tranquil face, and at the machines to see if any flicker of response has registered. She grabs Sugar's hand and whispers into her ear, "You knew that I needed you just as much as you needed all of us."

She leans back into the chair, still holding onto Sugar's hand. "I'm scared Sugar. I'm always scared. You were always the one who had this insane faith in me, believed without fail that I was going places. There were always monsters chasing me. You knew that one day they'd all be gone."

Mercedes squeezes Sugar's hand. "How did you know that?"

Sugar doesn't answer.

"I need you Sugar. I need you to tell me that I shouldn't be afraid anymore. For the first time I'm afraid of the unknown. I'm not going back to Puck's; there is no more Puck's. Santana is moving in with Brittany, and I'm moving in with Sam. Everything is falling apart and coming together all at the same time."

"Not that it was worth a whole lot to begin with, but at least last week I knew what to expect. And now I don't know. I never had what you had growing up."

Leaning down again, right next to Sugar's ear, she whispers, "Sugar I need you to tell me how the story is supposed to end. Because I want to believe in fairytales."

Mercedes sits there frowning, trying to think of what Sugar would have said. She smiles. "No, that's not right is it? I don't want to, I mean I do believe." Mercedes stands up and starts pacing around the bed. "Maybe that's it. Is that it?"

Again, no response from Sugar.

"But I'm still scared and that's bad right?" She lets her fingers trail along the blanket covering Sugar's body. "How can I not be scared? Sugar, how did you do it? It couldn't have all been the drugs talking. You were always rose colored glasses. The only time you got sad was when you thought about your mom, but even then you had your hat, totally held together all these years with love."

"Her love." Mercedes stops pacing. "My love."

Mercedes presses a kiss into Sugar's forehead. "Sugar I love you to pieces, we all do. But you know that don't you." Straightening, Mercedes accepts that there will be no more miracles today. "Wake up when you're ready. And I guess it's time for me to believe in myself. I can't just say it anymore. Everything has changed."

"I have to mean it, don't I?"

…

Before today the only things Sam had ever seen shot were deer. When they were homeless, hunting helped put meat on the table. He'd never had the stomach for it. Today he'd seen three people get shot, and is now staring at what 6 hours of surgery could do to a man. To himself he could admit that Puck wasn't ugly as far as guys went. He didn't have to dig too deep to see what made him so popular with the ladies. But all of that was gone now. His face was gaunt looking and pale. His chest was a mess of bandages and zigzagging scars. He was hooked up to all of these machines, tubes everywhere. Sam had no idea what all of the little electrodes and needles did, but he knew that just by the sheer volume, Puck was messed up.

"You gonna stand there staring or do you have something to say?" Sam is startled half to death. "Fix your face man. Don't make me laugh; it'll pull out my staples."

"Hey Puck." Sam gives him a cryptic look.

Huffing, Puck looks down at his arm. "This ain't the first time I've woken up handcuffed to a bed."

More for his protection, a uniformed officer stood guard at the end of the hallway the that housed Puck and Sugar. There was a short list of people allowed to see him considered family. (Officially Puck was a suspect in the murder of Detective Mike Change. Unofficially everyone knew that it was just procedure until they had sorted through enough evidence gathered while Mike was undercover to put Finn away for the rest of his life.)

"I—I didn't think you'd be awake so soon after surgery." Sam had hoped that both Mercedes and he would have an easier go at this because both of the people they were visiting were unconscious. Sam looks into Puck's hazel eyes. Well at least they were supposed to be unconscious.

"Well I am, so what do you want?"

"I just want to say thanks for everything. Thanks for taking care of her all this time. Thanks for letting go when I came along. I owe you, so anything I can do to help, let me know."

The look Puck gives him isn't exactly friendly. Sam isn't sure what to make of it. "All I want is to finally have a good life. Unless you have Beth, you can only give Mercy what I couldn't. And you know what that means don't cha?"

"No, what does that mean?"

"No playing house, you gotta marry her. Make her respectable." Puck raises his eyebrows and lifts the only thing he can, his chin, in Sam's direction.

"We don't need that to know that we love each other. Besides, isn't that a little old fashioned for a…" Sam let's his sentence fall off, unfinished.

"A pimp. Yeah, but it's your job to make her happy and I know she never talks about it, but she thinks about that kind of stuff, just like a lot of girls do."

"She's her own woman."

"Sam, she needs the life she was supposed to have all along."

Sam shakes his head, wondering what they had dripping into Puck's system from that little bag above his bed. "She'll get it. We have all the time in the world now."

"Don't wait." Puck is starting to get pissy. Sam just doesn't get it. "Man, hasn't all this taught you anything? I didn't wake up this morning planning to take one to the chest. Just like you didn't expect batshit to go apeshit and try to blow your damn head off."

Blindly, Sam declares, "I'm not letting her go, ever."

"That's not what I mean. All I'm sayin is don't put shit off. Just do it. You never plan on the bad stuff."

Sam rolls his eyes. On the one hand he's happy that Puck is awake, but dammit Puck is awake. "Look, she's with me now, and I have every intention of marrying her, but don't you think there's enough going on that we have to deal with?"

Huffing, Puck says, "Fuck no. Do it right now." Sam looks at Puck like he's crazy. "Don't give me that look."

"Why not? You're talking crazy talk. How else am I suppose to look?"

"Maybe I am, or maybe it's the drugs they got me on, but I'm serious. Go grab a priest tonight from one of the terminal wards. Give him something to smile about in a night where all he sees is death and pain." Puck lays his head back into his hospital pillow, staring at the ceiling. Maybe he was crazy, but in his still beating heart, he knows that he's right.

Growing frustrated at the pimp turned advice columnist, Sam grits his teeth. "I plan on doing _it_."

"Yeah I just bet you will." The double entendre is not lost on either of them.

"Look I'm just gonna chalk this up to stress and painkillers. I didn't come here to fight you, not over her. There is no fight over her. You were her pimp, and I'm her man. I can't change that."

Puck mocks Sam with an animated but soundless repetition of ' I'm her man'. Sam shakes his head and turns towards the door. "Whatever man. Just because you're with her doesn't make you better than me."

Puck's accusation causes Sam to come up short. He takes his hand off of the door handle, and turns back to face Puck as he says through gritted teeth, "I didn't say that."

"Look me in the eye and tell me that you weren't thinking it?" Sam tries, but in the end he breaks his eye contact with Puck, his eyes instead trailing down the other man's exposed chest tracing the fresh scars. "That's what I thought."

Eyes still lowered, Sam iterates that things are different now.

"You tell me how what's going on now is any different? Other than I have more game than you, waking up next to two fine women. How is it really any different now than a week ago?"

"It just is."

"I loved her as best I could and she loves me in her own way. She's gonna move her stuff from my place to yours. She helped me with my business and now she's helping you with yours. She healed me up a many a time, and she's done the same for you. What the hell are you gonna give her that I already haven't?"

There's that pesky double entendre yet again rearing its salacious little head.

"I—ha"

Puck cuts Sam off. "And she don't give a shit about your money neither. She's not like that bitch wife you fucked up and married the first time."

Sam finally looks at Puck's face again. "What the hell man? What are you trying to say? Wh—what's the point of all of this? There's nothing wrong with her being with me."

"Look, I actually want her to be with you, but something's gotta be different. It's all I'm saying. I woke up an—and saw you standing there and something told me not to let you leave without me saying my piece. I died 3 times on that table while they were working on me. Three times."

Sam feels like Puck just shot him in the chest. He knows that he has to get over his pride and his jealousy to really hear what Puck is saying. He'd died to keep all of them safe from Finn. He loved Mercedes first and totally, even though he couldn't love her completely. If that even makes any sense.

"Something has got to change." Sam's face falls as he mulls over what Puck was saying. Puck looks away. "On second thought, don't mind me any. I may be talking straight shit for all I know. I mean I see a fucking unicorn in the corner, so what the hell do I know about anything?"

"Maybe I should let you rest?" Puck just nods. Turning to face the door, Sam tries to compose himself before leaving and facing Mercedes.

He hears Puck whisper, "Her birthday is in a week, on Saturday…"

Sam whips back around. "What? What did you say?" But all the answer he receives from Puck is gentle snoring. Sighing heavily, he exits the room.

…

"What's wrong?"

Sam shakes his head. Guess he didn't quite wipe all of the worry away before exiting. "Nothing, he's awake." Mercedes does a little happy dance. "But I think maybe they have his meds set a little too high. He kept talking about unicorns and weird stuff like that."

Mercedes giggles. "Well that was better than my visit with Sugar." Shaking off her malaise, she smiles up at Sam. "So Puck believes in fairytales after all?"

"Apparently."

"So do I." She pauses, hoping that Sam would also add his 'me too'. She's only a little bit troubled when she continues with," Well then keeping with the theme, where to next my prince?"

Sam has a sudden thought. He smiles and then bows with a flourish. Sam takes Mercedes extended arm. "My very small castle awaits m'lady."

…

She can hear him in the hallway. She's been waiting all weekend trying to catch him. She just had to talk to him again. The first time they'd met he seemed upset about something, preoccupied. She knew from the gossip down the hall that he was going through a messy divorce with a very pretty blond. Smiling and checking her reflection one more time before opening her door, Sam's neighbor thinks, _He's in luck because I just happen to be a very pretty blond too. _He wasn't going to slam his door in her face a second time.

"Sam! You're back!"

Startled by the interruption, Sam drops his keys and the box he was carrying in the middle of the hallway. She tries to fight the wave of revulsion that washes over her. He looks like he's been in a fight. Her revulsion quickly changes to arousal. _Are those stitches on his forehead? So he's not a boy scout. I can work with that. _"Oh my goodness, are you alright? What happened?"

"Nothing—uhhh, I—I'm sorry, I forgot your name." He bends down to pick up his box and keys. "I took a pretty nasty spill earlier and knocked myself clean out. I really should be getting inside." He looks at the small box, all of Mercedes' possessions. He smiles. Mercedes had dozed off during the ride home and he'd made her wait in the car.

Seeing the smile, Sam's neighbor assumes it's for her. "Why don't I help? You look like hell. I could bring over some leftovers and a bottle of wine. Hospital food isn't all that great. And if you were unconscious, then you someone should keep an eye on you…you know just in case something is wrong."

Sam squints his eyes at her. "What?"

She takes a step towards him and he takes a step back. "Look , you're brain is a little fuzzy right now so I'm going to break it down for you. I just want to help. I'm fully prepared to give you _everything _you need tonight. Do you understand?"

Sam nods his head slowly. Whatever they had given him that morning was starting to wear off. His head is pounding. Even the lights in the hall were bothering him. "I get it. Now that I think about it I could totally use your help. Let me put this inside." Sam disappears for a moment, then returns. "I have very precious cargo in the car. I would really appreciate it if you could hold the door open for me."

"It would be my pleasure." She lets her tongue glide out over her lips.

All Sam can think is, _Oh God…_ He can't even fake a smile at this point. "Alright, you wait here and I'll be right back."

The neighbor does a little squealing victory dance once she's certain that Sam is out of earshot. Then she almost faints when Sam returns, carrying Mercedes.

"Thanks. I didn't want to wake her." Mouth agape she watches as Sam strolls past her into his studio apartment. " 'Night!"

This time she lets the door close in her own face.

Mercedes smiles very privately into Sam's neck as he lays her on the bed. She waits for him to slide under the covers next to her before rolling over, letting him know that she's awake. But, just like in some movie, as soon as his head hits the pillow he falls asleep. The events of that day and his mild concussion had finally caught up to him. Mercedes moves in close to his body and lays her head on his chest. Just like before his arms move to wrap around her pulling her into an embrace that is hers alone.

She lays there in the dark, listening to his heart beating, and she wonders why she's crying.

* * *

><p><strong>One last thing:<strong>

No way in hell could I really kill Puck, but I am not beneath making you all think that I had killed him.

Thanks for reading and I hope that you liked it.


	15. CH 15: Cedes Song

**CH 14: Cedes' Song AKA The Tilt-a-whilrwind Romance**

**Dear readers,**

**So, this is the last chapter. I'm going to give them all what they deserve, and it will be outrageous, unbelievable, and full of fluff. Because at this point there's just no other way to end it. True to my nature, there are still a few small trials to go through before the end, but rest assured, fluffy bunnies abound.**

**Please enjoy (:**

* * *

><p><strong>Part One: Because Mercedes and Sam have earned their fairytale ending…and so has everybody else (<strong>_**a six months later type deal**_**)**

… **They tried to make me go to rehab**

After six months of grueling rehab, Noah Puckerman is ready to go back out into the world. His girls may be gone, but he is not alone.

"Ready?" He looks up at Lauren standing in the doorway.

"Sure am."

"Good, I have a little surprise for you." Black cloth unfurls from her hand.

Smiling at his good fortune, Puck says, "Blindfolds, wanky."

…

Lauren removes Puck's blindfold after a short and completely uneventful in a naughty way car ride. "Where are we?"

"The Motta's."

"What the hell are we doing here?" Lauren winks at him and rings the door bell. Mr. Motta opens the door. He's holding Beth. They knew this moment was coming and had been showing Beth pictures and video of Puck's rehab.

She smiles, causing her little round cheeks to dimple. After throwing out a chubby little hand, she exclaims, "Daddy!"

Puck takes Beth into his arms. He hugs her firmly, but with a gentle touch. Any tears that manage to slip out are quickly wiped off onto her fluffy blonde curls. "How?"

Fresh out of rehab herself and six months clean, Sugar emerges from behind her father. She can see the shock register on Puck's face. "I woke up and told Daddy that I was ready to come home." Rubbing her hand along the back of Beth's head, she says, "I knew that Matt would just use her and throw her away, especially after what happened with Shelby, so I took her and put her in the only place I knew he'd never get to her." Her father pulls her into a hug with one arm. "Here with Daddy. I'd told him that she was ours, yours and mine. He took her with no questions asked, gave me some money and told me that I couldn't come back without being clean. He wouldn't let me corrupt a baby."

Quietly Mr. Motta says, "I really do love her like a grandpa. She's been the source of so many smiles these past few months. It's been so long since this house has had a reason to smile. I know she's not, but if…if you don't mind, I still want to be a part of her life."

Voice firm, Sugar says, "Puck, what we're trying to say is if you want, you can stay here. There's plenty of room for you and Beth"…belatedly she adds, "and Lauren. You, Mercedes, and Santana took care of me, kept me alive, and I owe you my life."

A very grateful Mr. Motta says, "And you gave me back my little Sugar. And you brought my little Sugar Lump into my life." Beth giggles in Puck's arms when she hears her nickname. Mr. Motta reaches out to ruffle her little blonde curls.

"I can't just live here. I didn't just work so hard to get back on my own two feet to take a hand out." Shaking his head he says, "No, I have to be responsible. I want to take care of my baby and my woman. I'm no charity case."

Understanding where Noah is coming from, Mr. Motta smiles and says, "Well we recently let go of our gardener. What do you know about landscaping and pool maintenance?"

…

After promising to return once he's had a chance to collect his things, Puck and Lauren get into the car. They make it only a short way down the winding tree lined road, just out of view from the house, before Puck makes Lauren pull over.

"Lauren, what just happened? How is it that I have it all? After everything, I got my baby, my woman, and my life?"

"You said it yourself, you wanted the world. I had seen Beth when I was checking out the Motta's for the Beiste. I didn't know who she was at the time, but when you showed me her picture on your cell that day we were hiding in the freezer, I figured that Sugar got Beth out." Reaching for something behind her back, she continues with, "And I turned State's evidence on the condition that if I revealed where Beth was, she'd be turned over to you, her father once you were fully recovered."

Puck looks at Lauren, amazed by her story. "How can I ever repay you?"

Putting her hand in front of his face, Lauren lets the previously discarded blindfold fall from her hand once more. "I think we can work something out."

…**Somewhere over the rainbow…**

Mercedes is awake and staring at the rainbows being cast on her wall. She turns her hand left and right in the midmorning light streaming into her bedroom. She takes her finger and twirls around the heavy gold band below the biggest diamond engagement ring she'd ever seen. That rock could light up a room, but it didn't match how she felt when she saw her husband Sam. It had only been 6 months and everyday still felt so new. There is so much that she'd never understood or thought could be possible that is now well within her reach.

Turning over to lookout of the window she thinks that one thing that's totally new to her is having a place that is truly her own; this is their house. It was a cute little bungalow cottage inside of a regentrified part of the city that looked like it was fit for a troop of elves. At first she was worried about being away from her friends, but she knew that Sam was there and that it was high time for her to let them have their lives too. It was perfect. Enough space for two, with a bit of room to grow. There was even a small study for Sam to work in as well as a little room for Mercedes to record from when she got the urge. There was even a little garden and ornate planter boxes hanging under the shuttered windows.

Smiling, she runs her hand under her pillow. No longer is there alarm when she realizes her blade isn't there. She didn't need to sleep with a knife. Financially they could afford stuff like living in one of the nicest neighborhoods and having a security system in their house. Which, finally after a few months didn't creep her out every single time she opened the door or a window.

Chuckling, she thinks about how Sam's career was hotter than ever. His book about the unlikely female superhero touched a chord with readers around the world. It seemed like everybody could relate to wanting a chance to prove that they were special. So many people discount themselves, selling themselves short, only to miss out on their chance to really do something to make a difference. He'd managed to turn her sad but still rather ordinary story into something extraordinary. Her life could have had such a dismal end, but he wrote about how she never stopped fighting. Deep down inside there was this feeling, this light, this power that touched everyone she touched. It took her the longest to see it, but once she did, he'd written that she'd literally changed the world.

Mercedes can feel her eyes swell. The way he'd romanticized her life, giving her wings and an placing her on this unbelievable mission for humanity… it still gives her chills. His book sold millions of copies and had stayed at the top of the New York Times best sellers list for over 4 months. And then came the other phone calls. Phone calls to do another run on his first two books. Phone calls to develop a movie based on the newest book. Phone calls urging him to develop another book. Phone calls to do radio spots, go on book tours, participate in Comic-Con, and phone calls from Oprah. Mercedes' eyes close when she remembers how she almost hung up on _OPRAH_ Winfrey because she couldn't fathom why in a million years the media mogul would be calling Sam.

Or her for that matter, Ms. Winfrey wanted the Evans twofer.

Smiling even harder, Mercedes thinks that she's not doing too shabby either. Her singles released with Sam's book blew up the charts. They were crossover hits playable on a ton of different formats. Once she finally got out the last of her demons, all Mercedes wanted to do was create more. And just like that, she and April had pulled together her first album. Like the book that bore her winged image, her music still dominated radio, video, sales, and YouTube plays. Her first royalty check was never cashed. It is framed on their wall of success. First came gold, then platinum, and the fastest rise to platinum to boot.

It's hard not to lose yourself when your husband writes about you being an angel who'd lost her way on the means streets of Chicago, and for a short while got off of her divine path. It's hard not to lose yourself when you have more money than you knew was humanly possible and the checks just keep rolling in. But Mercedes stays firmly grounded. She still has Santana, Puck, Brittany, and all of her other friends from before. She still goes to the old neighborhood to record her first cuts because April refuses to get too sober and go all LA.

And of course there's Sam. Take away all of the stuff, the money, the endorsements, the deals, and all that was left was all that truly mattered. Waking up every single day next to the love of her life, the man who would take a bullet for her, was everything. Oh, and the way he loved her took her to places beyond her comprehension.

This morning, like a lot of mornings, Sam is running late. Rushing to throw on a fresh shirt, he makes the mistake of glancing over to look at Mercedes, still sprawled on the bed. The look on her face stops Sam in his tracks.

"Cedes, what's on your mind?" The way his hands drop to his sides and his feet slide over the rug back towards the bed signal his defeat. The way his voice dips when he says her name lets her know that he'd be more than willing to return to her.

She tries to fight off the tingling waves his voice sets off along her skin. "Nothing. Just thinking about the first time we were like this, back you that little studio apartment you had."

He never halts his progress towards the bed, placing a knee next to her body as smile begins to tug at the side of his face. "Mmmm, I think this morning was better."

Rolling her eyes playfully, she answers with, "That's because you still have sex on the brain."

"Guilty as charged." He moves to cover her body with his own, shirt magically disappearing in the process. Nuzzling the side of her neck, he whispers against her glowing skin, "But so are you."

Giggling, she helps him unfasten his pants, sliding them down his long legs with her thighs. "Right you are, but you're gonna be late."

Sam's answer is to pick back up where he left off before his shower. His hands quickly begin to run over her face, down her neck, stopping at each breast to stroke each nipple to perfect attention before moving between her legs. There isn't another place in the world that he'd rather be.

This morning isn't the first time he'll be late, and it certainly won't be the last time. But it doesn't matter, being the boss has its perks.

As she starts to get lost in the touches and sensations Sam is sending through her body, Mercedes' last thought is that that morning in the little studio was still one of the best mornings of her life. That week, with them in a sort of limbo erased a lifetime of pain. Without that week in between they wouldn't have had this happily ever after.

He can feel her response slow as she travels back to that darker time and place. That place filled with so much loss. "Baby, let it go. All of that is just shadow and mist, can't touch you now." He takes the pad of his thumb and brushes any forming apology from her face. "I wish it could have been different for you, that I could have been there sooner to help. You of all people didn't deserve any of that mess."

She shrugs. "No one wants to go through that crap either of us had to go through growing up, but it made us who we are. You couldn't have helped me no more than I could have helped you." He lowers himself down, increasing the skin on skin contact with her, offering her through his touch, comfort and love. "We had help, lots of help, but in the end we had to save ourselves." She takes her hands and places them behind his neck, savoring the way his silky tresses feel in her fingers. She then slides them deliberately down his back, raking her fingernails along his spine. Mercedes tilts her head to the side when Sam's eyes close, and he practically purrs at her touch.

"No more shadows baby?" He is pretty much always ready to go, but sometimes sadness would creep in that had to be dealt with. He wants to make sure that things were back in the light, so he could make her see rainbows, stars, and anything else he could before leaving.

She slides her hands lower, down that dip at the end of his back, to spread them wide across his firm butt. She pulls him back down, sliding him back into her with one solid pull. Her answer takes on a melodic edge. "Oh yeah, I'm just fine, fine, fine…"

* * *

><p><strong>Part Two: A New Kind of Hero Emerges From the Ashes… (cue the flashbacks…)<strong>

…**On the A Side/The Week from Hell is finally over…**

Sam's been pacing all morning, running late for a meeting with his manager that he's been dreading.

Sitting there in his tiny temporary bachelor pad with Mercedes, Sam thought this was all he wanted. It is, but everything still isn't quite right. Holding her hand, he says, "Rough week, right?" She just snorts in response. "I got shot, my wife was killed…" He raises her hands to his lips. "I got a new girl." She smiles, and lets it quickly fade away when he's too slow to return it. Looking down at their interlocked fingers, Sam says, "My manager is not so happy with what's been going on. They like to say that any press is good press, but that's not true." Turning to look at her, unblinking he is adamant. "He doesn't know you like I do. He's just listening to investors and publishing houses. And critics. You're no scandal; you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"What is this about?"

"I've been thinking, and I—th…"

Part of her is listening, but not really. Mercedes can't hear Sam because she is drowning in doubt. In the farthest darkest reach of her soul she just knew that it was never ever going to work. Cutting him off, she stammers, "It—it's okay. I understand. Really I do."

"Oh my goodness. I thought you would be mad. Thank-you so much for understanding." He sounds giddy with relief.

Growing angry and sullen, Mercedes snaps back with, "Don't sound too happy about all this."

"But I thought you didn't care about money? I thought you were in this for me? I will work every single day of my life to provide for you. But once I back out of the book deal, there won't be any more grand hotels or fancy cars."

Mercedes' brain rapidly processes what Sam must have said earlier…earlier when she thought that he was leaving her. "Oh no, you're not backing out of nothing." Her anger has given way to fierce resolve. "That's not how this works. You don't' give up on your dreams and I don't give up on mine. We help each other to make them come true."

Mercedes Jones, the girl who only had nightmares for most of her life, now not only had dreams, but spoke them into life, and believed that they could come true.

"How can you say that? Look at all of the trouble I've caused you. I almost got you killed Mercedes, KILLED!" Calming down, and leaning her forehead to touch with his, she smiles. Sam allows his face to be drawn into hers, but his eyes are wide. "You're smiling. Why are you smiling? If things don't turn around for me, we'll be in the poorhouse." Mercedes' smile grows even wider. "Seriously, how are you smiling?"

"Because I got into plenty of trouble before you came along. I'm smiling because I'm just fine." All she can see is how for a split second her still lingering doubt had stolen her very breath and the joy that she hoped to have for the rest of her life. No more. Not again. "And you're fine too." Sam watches, fascinated at how quickly Mercedes' mood changed. She's now standing in front of him, still smiling, and swaying to a song in her head that only she can hear. "For the first time in a long time, I won't change my life, my life's just fine….fine….fine…" He watches as she starts to snap out the rhythm on her fingers, punctuating the beat with a delicate slap to her hip.

"What is this?"

"This is love…" Still grooving to her own beat, Mercedes sings, "Can't let this thing called love get away from you; Feel free right now, going do what you want to do; Can't let nobody take it away, from you, from me, from we; No time for moping around, are you kidding? And no time for negative vibes, cause I'm winning; It's been a long week…." Nodding emphatically, she pulls him up off of the couch to dance with her as she continues to sing in circles around him. "I put in my hardest; Gonna live my life, feels so good to get it right…"

Fighting back unexpected tears, Sam mouths, 'I love you' to Mercedes as she continues to groove around his tiny apartment. He's watching every swing and sway her body makes, and she knows it.

Vouge-ing it up in front of the mirror, she sings, "So I like what I see when I'm looking at me; When I'm walking past the mirror; No stress through the night …" Finally Mercedes Jones will get to spend nights wrapped in the arms of a man she doesn't have to share.

"You see I wouldn't change my life, my life's just…..Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, ooooh…..You see I wouldn't change my life, my life's just fine…"

Starting to get into the song, Sam whispers, "So I will write, and you will sing your song baby."

Grabbing his hand and lifting them over her head, Mercedes snakes her way close to Sam's body, playful but serious all at the same time. She's singing for him and for that last little seed of doubt she still has. It's hard to believe, especially the first time. "Feels so good, when you're doing all the things that you want to do; Get the best out of life, treat yourself to something new; Keep your head up high; In yourself, believe in you, believe in me…"

Grinning like a fool and stomping around the room like two fools, Sam shouts, "I believe, I believe, I BELIEVE!"

Laughing, Mercedes continues the song. "I aint gon' let nothing get in my way; I ain't gone let nobody bring me down, no, no, no; No matter what nobody has to say; No way, no way, no way; I ain't gon' let nothing get in my way; No matter what nobody has to say…"

Suddenly Sam pulls her gyrating figure into his arms for a kiss that she breaks just as suddenly to finish the song. Her song.

"You see I wouldn't change my life, my life's just…..Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, ooooh…You see I won't change my life, my life's just fine."

Renewed by a newfound strength, Sam begins to pull together the beginnings of his manuscript for his manager. As he quickly organizes his papers, notes, and other things, he asks, "Sing it again 'Cedes?"

….

"You see I wouldn't change my life, my life's just…..Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, ooooh…You see I won't change my life, my life's just fine."

Sam looks cautiously at his manager Wes as the last chorus of 'Cedes song dies out. He'd secretly recorded her that second time, and is using it to help him save his book deal. While the song played on loop in the back ground, Sam outlined for Wes his story, a new kind of story about a new kind of hero. Honestly, it all starts off very skeptical, but by the time the song is over Wes is bopping his head to the music and humming along with the hook.

Looking up over the edge of the manuscript page, Wes asks, "And she won't mind you using her song?"

"Certain…fairly certain. I have my ways." Even the ultra businessman notices the mischievous glint in Sam's eye. "Besides, April won't say no, not when we're gonna give them a massive cut."

"Oh we are, are we?" Sam nods his head. Knowing that he was holding Sam's next best seller in his hands, Wes concedes. "Alright. I like it." He reaches out his hand to seal the deal in an old fashioned hand shake. "You finish up the book and we'll do an old school block party to celebrate its release where your…uh, friend will perform the single. A CD with every hardcopy and a digital download with every e-book purchase." Handing the draft back to Sam he adds, "Ignore the critics. This is gold. "

"Don't I know it." Wes looks at Sam, thinking that he was being a bit cocky, but the look he see's on Sam's face tells him that Sam was referring to something else entirely.

…**On the B Side\Just one more trial by fire, promise …**

Swirling a drop of vermouth around in her glass, April prepares herself a martini while Mercedes settles down at the sound board to listen to her song, still called 'Cedes Song' that was going to be released with Sam's book in just a week. "Sounds good right? I may be an old booze hag, but I know my business."

Mercedes lets a shy smile play across her lips. The song sounded amazing. And all of this was produced by a woman who sweats straight vodka. Amazing.

"Nah babe, it's your amazing vocals and message that really make the song worth it."

"I—I didn't realize I said that out loud."

Slapping her arm and sloshing her drink a bit, April answers too loudly with, "Well you did, but when you're right you're right. If we can capitalize on the exposure, we are gonna make a _crapload _of money." April extends her glass towards Mercedes in a mock toast, but pulls back when she catches an uncertain look in Mercedes' eyes. Willing herself to put the martini down, April places her knee in between Mercedes' and pushes on the swivel chair. She turns it so that they are facing one another. "Okay, why the sourpuss? You should be happy. Like for real happy and you look like you just smelled a fart in church."

Rolling her eyes, but smiling, Mercedes shrugs her shoulders. "I don't know. I am happy, but…"

"But what? You can tell me. Maybe I can help?"

"It's Sam, he's wonderful, like my absolute best friend and everything, but I don't know if he wants me anymore."

"What? I've seen the way he looks at you. Gets me all tingly…or maybe that's the bourbon." Shaking the buzz from her head, April questions Mercedes. "We all know that boy ain't gay, so what's wrong? Performance anxiety? We got pills for that. Too quick? We got pills for that." Gesturing with her forefinger and her thumb, her final question is, "Little problem? We got pills for that too."

Mercedes shakes her head slowly. "Ohmygodno!"

"He's not looking at some other girl is he? Cuz I don't care how much money we're gonna make of off him, I'll kill him myself."

"No, it's not that."

Picking up her martini, April takes a sip. "So what is it then?"

"We still haven't…you know."

"No fucking way!" April tosses back her martini. "I thought ya'll were holed up in that little apartment of his going at it like bunnies." Mercedes just looks down and shakes her head no. "Why the hell not?"

"Between him working on the book and me working on my album, and like a million other things, we are just beat. When he's there, I'm singing and when I am there, he's writing. It's weird. When he was married it took everything not to, but now…I don't even try to stay up and wait for him if he's at his desk." Looking up, she continues, "Everything else is good, but I asked him about it, and he says wants everything to be perfect. He says he still wants me, but he wants to wait for—for the right time." Mercedes releases a long pent-up heavy sigh. "He knows I'm no virgin, but it's still our first time. I think he thinks I want to get married."

"Do you?"

"I don't know."

"Why would he think that then?"

"Because he doesn't want me to think that he's not committed, that he's going to change his mind one day and just as quickly as he came into my life, that he could walk right back out."

Tracing the rim of her disappointingly empty glass, April snorts. "A ring don't mean shit. Plenty of guys walk out on their wives every day."

"Yeah, but to him it means a lot. He said that he dreamt about it."

"Dreamt about it? Isn't that your job?"

"Yeah, but he was really serious about it when it came up. As a heart attack serious. Then he told me that without it he's no better than Puck."

April almost chokes on her next sip of alcohol. "What? Puck is a good man. We all have done things we aren't proud of."

"He wasn't trying to say anything about Puck, just that I'm special and that all of this is more than money or support, friendship, love, a place to stay, sex…. You know the whole is greater than the sum of its parts." Closing her eyes and saying a silent thank-you, Mercedes tells April that she kinda gets where Sam is coming from. "My life before was just parts, some good, mostly bad, but all broken, and Sam makes it whole."

"Oh Lord that was sickeningly sweet. I know I asked, but bleck. How do you guys talk all mushy like that and still not manage to do the dirty?"

"I—I don't know, that's what I'm trying to figure out. It's been almost a week, and we've been so busy I feel like it will NEVER happen. Ever. And I'm not exactly fast, but Sam is the one, so why wait?"

April puts down her glass again to give Mercedes a hug. "Well sweetie, I may not understand because Will and I can't keep our hands off of each other, but …"

"Oh April…the images that I do not need in my head right now…"

"Shush, and let me finish. I'm just gonna come out and say it. You certainly don't seem too broken up about that man of yours _not_ trying to get into your pants. Yeah you're all woe is me right now, but I don't think you've shown Sam how you really feel. I know you weren't exactly getting anything regularly before, like I'm fairly certain Santana called you cobwebs once when ya'll were arguing about something….what she did. Anyway, so maybe you're the one who is holding back and Sam is waiting to make you feel better?"

"How is this my fault?"

"Idunno. Do you walk around naked? Guys are visual creatures." Mercedes shakes her head. "Do you wear clothes that just begged to be ripped off?" Mercedes shakes her head again. "Have you ever just said 'C'mon over here big boy and just take me?' That one always gets Will going!"

"April…IMAGES!"

"It was just a hypothetical, or not..." Sizing her up, April concludes, "Sorry babe, but I think you have yourself the world's most patient man."

"_But how_… I love him. I want to be with him forever. I want this, I do."

Pulling up the music for a song that is still unwritten, April quietly says, "Just one week ago you didn't believe in forevers. Maybe somewhere deep, deep down you still don't."

The first warm wet tear rolls over Mercedes' bottom lashes and down her cheek. She remembers almost drowning in fear just a few days ago when she thought Sam was about to leave her. Sure she'd found some reservoir of strength, but deep down she knows that she did that for Sam. April's right, she's the one holding back.

April quickly rubs them away. "Don't cry. You fought, you bled, and _all_ of the beasts have finally been slain. You won, now you just gotta claim your prize." She waggles her eyebrows, but it doesn't really make Mercedes feel any better.

Motioning towards the sound board and the music emanating from it, Mercedes sniffles, and says, "This sounds different. It's not R it's not even hip hop." She's not trying to change the subject or anything. "April what is this?"

Shrugging, April turns it up and says, "I was in a different place when I came up with this. It was a dark place, but…" Grabbing Mercedes hand, she finishes with, "…it's not anymore. I think you of all people can relate."

Mercedes fights back her tears and forces her lips to form a smile. "But I'm so scared. I almost want things back to the way they were, before, before I had almost everything to lose."

"We're all scared, but honey you're damned if you do and damned if you don't, so here's to drinks in the dark at the end of my road." April gives her a little wink. "Because Mercedes you already suffered _and_ baby, aren't you ready to hope? Look at me, did I ever think that after bathing in booze for the last 20 years that I'd be producing the next Whitney?" Quickly April brings Mercedes' face level with hers. "I mean it. Not until you sang on stage that night in the Glee Club, and that spotlight on you shined hope into this drunk's life." She narrows her eyes at Mercedes. "Fuck suffering. Gimme hope. You've been lower than most, isn't it time to rise?"

Leveled by April's words, her questions, and her music, Mercedes does rise wordlessly to enter the sound booth. She feels a song stirring, one to match April's music, and one that starts in a dark place but ends up in the light.

Placing the headphones one, she waits for the music to pick back up from the beginning again, and smiling through her tears she sings, "Regrets collect like old friends; Here to relive your darkest moments; I can see no way, I can see no way; And all of the ghouls come out to play…."

Every night she screamed. Woke up covered with tear stains, blood stains, sweat stains, and other stains. She hasn't screamed like that in a long time. And she knows that even if she does have a nightmare or two, Sam will be there to hold her until it passed.

"And every demon wants his pound of flesh; But I like to keep some things to myself; I like to keep my issues drawn; It's always darkest before the dawn…"

One week ago someone tried to kill her and everyone she held dear. They fought, they bled, some did not rise to fight again, but they _had_ won.

"And I've been a fool and I've been blind; I can never leave the past behind; I can see no way, I can see no way; I'm always dragging that horse around…Tonight I'm gonna bury that horse in the ground… But it's always darkest before the dawn…"

What had April said? Fuck suffering. Tomorrow was her birthday and she was going to party with her friends, who in truth are her family, and her man. And then she was going to love every part of him that she could reach and work on loving every part of him that she couldn't. Forever. And Ever. Ring or not.

"Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa…And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back…So shake him off, oh whoa…"

She will eat, drink, and be merry for once with no regrets, no worries, and no fear. Sam better be ready, because she finally is.

* * *

><p><strong>Part 3: Best Party EverEpic Proposal is Epic/Best Party Ever…**

As much as Sam wanted to whisk Mercedes away for some ultra-romantic private birthday celebration, he knows in his heart of hearts that Santana would cut him for it. Of course he had to do more than her usual dinner at breadsticks too. It took him all week to pull together and to manage to keep it a secret up until her dress arrived the morning of the party. She knew that he had something special planned. Mercedes would be happy and Sam Evans is throwing her a birthday bash that will go down in history.

He went for broke, literally. He called in every favor he had out there; pulled almost every reserve he'd amassed. He wasn't left penniless, but he'd been shameless about sparing absolutely no expense. Something told him that it would all work out. Every dime he spent planning Mercedes' party would come back to him tenfold.

He just knew it.

…

Just before entering the party space, Sam asks for the millionth time, "Are your eyes still closed Baby?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, it's just a little farther, I promise."

Curls bouncing, Mercedes says, "Okay. You know I trust you. Just don't have me breaking an ankle on some stairs, _okay._ You know I didn't get all dolled up for nothing."

She was positively floored at nine that morning when a huge package arrived for her at the apartment that morning. Inside she found the most beautiful dress she'd ever seen. It was even nicer than anything she'd ever seen in a movie, and came with fancy lacy underthings that she'd only glimpsed some of the girls at the Glee Club wearing. The corset top made everything she had even more, well more. And the skirts were right out of a fairytale. All she could think was that Sam must have gotten Santana and Josephine, who had fit her only last week at that hotel, to send her the right dress with all of the trimmings. All she knew for sure was that she wasn't eating at Breadstix that night.

"Hmmm, you make a good point." With that Sam's voice cuts through her thoughts about that morning, pulling her back into the present. He stoops down and picks her up, carrying her the rest of the way.

Mercedes' laughter rings out into the party space. Eyes still closed, the laughter turns into a gasp in Sam's ears. "Sam…where are we? I can tell just from the way my laugh carries that it's someplace big."

Sam delicately places her feet on the ground, keeping a strong hand on the small of her back. She can feel him move closer to her side. "Open your eyes."

Blinking her eyes open, Mercedes recognizes the room immediately. It's the ballroom of the Excelsior Hotel. Looking around the at the vaulted ceiling spotted with chandeliers, it's almost exactly as she remembers it. She and Sam had snuck in once before to steal a private slow dance on the glorious marble dance floor. All of the beautiful artwork, gilded fixtures, and random sculptures were still there, but the room had been empty a week ago. And now the room was full of dreams, as if somehow Sam had eavesdropped on her when she was sleeping.

Lowering her eyes to take in the rest of the room she can see circular tables are set with shimmering white linens, draped by wide bands of lavender ribbon. The same ribbon is tied in large layered bows across the backs of tall stately chairs. Even the wood of the chairs is covered in gold leaf to match the walls. Each table has a towering tiered crystal centerpiece dripping with long strands of pearls. Lit candles in all shapes and sizes are artfully scattered amongst the shimmering prisms, casting a dancing rainbow effect across the walls. The place settings are formal, with more knives, forks, and spoons than Mercedes can fathom what to do with. They were set in pure silver. Mini arrangements of bubblegum pink roses were set in a loose circle at the base of each crystal centerpiece.

Sam waits patiently, his body fidgeting with excitement as he watches Mercedes execute a slow turn to take it all in. He'd carried her through all of those glowing tables to the center of the ballroom.

Looking down, she smiles at her reflection in the shiny marble dance floor. She turns her blazing smile towards Sam, who can't help but smile back. Looking around some more, she sees a little table that is set apart from the others. Something tells her it's for them. And then she sees the little stage.

Still smiling, the first tear rolls to the edge of her lashes. Mercedes brushes it away with the side of her hand, trying not to sniffle too loudly. "O—oh Sam. Th—this is all too much." He remains silent, pulling her into his arms. "No really, it's just my birthday party." She pulls back to look directly into his eyes, shutting out the rest of the world in the process. "This is all so beautiful an—a—and just way too much."

"Mercedes this is the least I could do after everything we've been through. I just figured we needed something really big and really good to wash away all of the hurt from last week." He gives her a little, mostly unapologetic, shrug.

Closing her eyes, Mercedes lays her head on Sam's chest, afraid that if she opened them again she would discover that it had all been a dream. "I just wanted a little something with you and my friends. Some real good food, some real good music, and some real good cake."

Sam presses a kiss into the crown of Mercedes' head. Pulling back, he takes one of his hands and cradles the side of her face. Knowing what is coming, Mercedes lifts her eyes up to meet his. In unison, their eyes close and they share a sweet kiss. "You still don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?"

Touching his forehead to hers, he whispers, "You said it yourself. We are here to make our dreams, mine and yours, come true." He takes one of her hands into his and brings it to his mouth for a caress. "Mercedes nothing could have stopped me from throwing you this party. I know it doesn't make up for all of the missed parties, the tears, the pain, but dammit Baby, I had to try."

Mercedes give him a grateful smile, before lifting her chin for another sweet kiss.

"Mercedes I promise this night will be full of everything you want, everything I want, and everything we need. There will be you and me, our friends, our family, real good food, real good music, and the most divine cake you will ever taste."

"Prom—"

"SURPRISE!"

Startled, Mercedes turns around to discover that everyone who had ever brought a little bit of light into her dark life had somehow managed to sneak into the ballroom. All of Puck's girls, her friends from the diner and church, April, Will, the girls from the Glee Club, Big Bubba…even Sue and Rory. Her heart brimmed over, threatening to burst when she saw, sitting front and center, Puck. He is in a wheelchair, looking a little worse for wear, but he's there.

Hesitantly Mercedes takes a step away from Sam. "Go, you haven't seen him since before he got shot."

Mercedes is at Puck's side in a flash. He blows off her look of disbelief. "Cedes you know I wouldn't miss this for nothing." She gives him a hug, which he accepts, wincing as she pulls away.

"Oh, sorry. Did I hurt you?"

"Nah, you could never hurt me Cedes."

Before anyone could say another word, Sam's voice booms out. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you could all take your seats." He waits for a beat, before continuing with, "We have an awful lot planned for this evening and it's time to give Mercedes her next present."

Mercedes should have realized then that something else, even bigger, was up. Everybody got too quiet, and sat down too fast. But her brain is so high on good old fashioned love and endorphins that she just hurries to her seat at the little table. In fact the only dark thought to enter her mind was that only Sugar is missing.

Sam is still standing on the little stage, as a man begins to play the piano. He moves back toward the microphone and begins to serenade her.

"You've been on my mind; I grow fonder every day, Lose myself in time; Just thinking of your face…"

Never taking his eyes from hers, Sam's smile can be heard in his voice. Mercedes' reaction amuses him greatly. He can see her wrestling with it all, hearing the words with her ears and her heart. This is his song to her. He didn't write it, but he still feels every single word down to his very soul as he sings.

Her throat begins to tighten when he laughs as he sings, "God only knows; Why it's taken me so long; To let my doubts go; You're the only one that I want…"

The first tear traces a wet path from the corner of her eye to the curve of her chin. She thinks, _A week? Almost two? That's all, and he thinks that he's been dragging his feet._

"I don't know why I'm scared, I've been here before; Every feeling, every word, I've imagined it all, You never know if you never try; To forgive your past and simply be mine…"

April had been right all along. She was the one who had been holding back that last little bit of her heart. She had been the one refusing to cut the strings from the past that were trying to bind her to that darkness forever.

Mercedes watches as Sam pauses just before the swell of the chorus and makes his way down from the stage. The music from the band is still going, as if this little interlude was planned. His eyes burning with need and such a longing desire that she feels faint. The path from his eyes practically lit and burned away any dark strings still trying to cling to her. Sam lays his microphone down on the table and offers her his hand.

Feeling finally free, Mercedes places her hand in his. He leads them out onto the dance floor and without warning the song picks back up, right where he'd left off.

"I dare you to let me be your, your one and only; Promise I'm worthy to hold in your arms…"

All Mercedes can do is mouth "Oh… My… God…" Eyes as wide as saucers, Mercedes looks from Sam to the stage, where Adele is standing, singing her song. Sam's song to Mercedes; Adele is singing to Mercedes on her birthday.

"So come on and give me the chance; To prove that I'm the one who can; Walk that mile until the end starts…"

As she sways with Sam, she can't believe that he's gone to all of this trouble for her. Tearing her eyes away from Adele, Mercedes turns to smile at Sam, thinking the entire time that her face was going to break or that she was going to pass out, or both.

"If I've been on your mind; You hang on every word I say; Lose yourself in time at the mention of my name; Will I ever know how it feels to hold you close? And have you tell me whichever road I choose you'll go…"

Gazing into Sam's eyes for the rest of the song is a sobering experience. Sam is unblinking and unwavering in his conviction. Never again will he doubt her or fail to be there for her when she needs him. All week he'd been praying, planning, and hoping that in the end their love would win out and she would be his.

"I Know it ain't easy, giving up your heart; Nobody's perfect, trust me I've learned it…"

Sam didn't need perfect, he just needs Mercedes. He knows that everything is happening so fast and that she's never had the light of true undivided love shine on her. He wants her to know that it's okay to still be a little scared, to be a bit unsure about things, to wonder how the story will end. He needs her to know that he feels the same way.

The only think he knows for sure is that their stories were now one story. An epic love story.

Sam's face begins to darken with unshed emotion. Wordlessly he drops down to one knee. He pulls out a diamond ring that is the size of a small planet. The music and Adele fade into the background, as Sam asks, "Mercedes, will you give me a chance to be your one and only? I will love you until the end of time and back. I will do everything in my power to never let what haunts you steal your joy. Marry me, please."

"You have no idea how much I didn't even know I wanted to hear you ask that. And of course my answer is yes. It was always yes."

Slipping the ring onto her finger, Sam quickly stands and pulls her into a fierce kiss. Amid the applause, she can hear him ask her another question. "Now?"

"Huh?" Rapidly she puts it all together. For something that she should have seen coming when she opened the box that morning to reveal the most beautiful, WHITE, princess cut dress she'd ever laid eyes on, Mercedes is still surprised. But, as Sam would say, she considered his offer for approximately 0.68 seconds, almost an eternity, before practically shouting, "Yes!"

Quick as a blur Santana pulls her away from Sam and back down the aisle she'd never really noticed running down the center of the tables.

An older woman she doesn't recognize is waiting for her. The woman hugs Mercedes and gives her a quick kiss on the cheek. Confused, Mercedes thinks the woman looks a lot like someone she knows. Her confusion only grows when she covers her head and face with a veil and a lovely jeweled tiara. The woman leans in and whispers, "It's just costume jewelry, but my mother wore it on her wedding day, and I wore it on mine. And believe it or not we have been saving it for you all this time." Gently laying the delicate folds of the lace material around her shoulders, she says, "Something old."

Santana touches Mercedes' shoulder, tracing the top of her dress. "Something new."

The older, blond woman then unhooks her own necklace and slides it under the veil around Mercedes' neck. It was a small sapphire cross. An older man with eyes identical to Sam's whispers, "Something borrowed and something blue."

Knowing, but wanting some kind of confirmation, Mercedes asks, "Who are you?"

"Sweetie, we're your soon to be mom and dad, if you'll have us."

Sam's parents…stumbling over her words, Mercedes stammers, "I—if I'll have you? You got it all wrong. It should be if you'll have me."

Mrs. Evans runs her hands along Mercedes' arms. "Sam has told us all about you, and about everything. You brought him back his light and you brought him back the will to love, after…"

She didn't have to say it.

"Thank you, for the veil, and the necklace, and for giving me a chance."

Shaking her head, Mrs. Evans responds with, "No, thank you. And happy birthday."

Sam's parent return to their seats, and suddenly Puck is there to take their place. He clears his throat, winking as he whispers, "Somebody's got to give you away, right?"

All Mercedes can do at this point is nod her head. She prays that her voice returns when she and Sam exchange vows in just moments. She takes Puck's hand, and Santana pushes the chair alongside her. Santana drops her one and only tear when they take their first steps and the band begins playing 'Here Comes the Bride'.

There is no preamble. Puck places Mercedes' hand into Sam's and the service begins.

"…let them speak now or forever hold their peace." The pastor looks out into the sea of faces in attendance.

Santana flashes a blade at the assembled group. Then she turns back around quickly and smiles sweetly at the pastor, motioning for him to move along. Everyone, including Sam and Mercedes laugh. The pastor decides to skip right to the good stuff.

"Do you Mercedes Jones take Samuel Evans to be your lawfully wedded husband, to…"

After waiting for what feels like forever, Mercedes announces in a loud voice, "I do."

"And do you Sam—"

"I do."

The pastor slaps his hand down on his bible, exclaiming, "Alrighty now, somebody's done messin around." Sam begins to blush furiously. "Well I am so pleased to announce that by the power vested in me by God Almighty and the great state of Ohio, I now pronounce you husband and wife. What God has brought together, let no man put asunder."

It is done.

"You may now kiss your bride."

…

_POP_

Trust April to be the one to officially kick off the birthday-wedding party when she 'stumbles' upon a case of Dom.

Sam made good on all of his promises. There was good music, good food, and the most amazing 7 tier chocolate cake any of them had ever eaten. There was singing, dancing, and presents.

Mercedes and Sam gladly admit that they missed how it all ended. They were too busy making up for all that lost time in their suite. And yes, Mercedes honored her promise to love every part of him that she could reach and work on loving every part of him that she couldn't.

Forever.

And Ever.

The end.

* * *

><p><strong>Last chapter end notes are long:<strong>

I actually got married on my birthday too! I know, y'all don't care, but…

OMG, Sugar Lump! Did you see what I did there? Did you?

Yes, I totally ref'd Star Trek … and what?

Bunnies…

This story was the best week and the worst week ever in so many ways. (Ha! I stretched 7 days into 14 chapters.)

I just love the Mary J. Blige song, which I think Mercedes would sing to Sam to give him the courage to finish the book despite the naysayers. And that Florence + the Machine is a good contrast to the song on the A side, but still meaningful and something that Amber could sing the pants off of. *awkward* these particular notes were written waaaaay b/f I found out that the girls would do the song in S3 'choke'. Ummmm….It wasn't bad, but it wasn't what I thought it _could_ be. Luckily in fanfiction, anything's possible so #DoOver.

I also must put a tilt-a-whirl ref into all of my Samcedes stories. That hallway smile. I really want to know what happened. Anyone out there watching s4 that could tell me? (b/c I am not…)

Dear, dear readers, we have reached the end of this particular tale. Thank you, thank you, thank you all so much for the amazing support and review & favorite love. Color me all misty eyed… I am superstoked by our fandom and everyone's willingness to give this story about a green eyed boy, a wannabe hooker, her stripper bestie, and their pimp with a heart, a try.

Much love and please take a moment to let me know what you think now that Mercedes has her fairytale ending, as if I would actually have her be a bloody footnote in an urban legend. (Just ignore 'Web of Love' and that totally makes sense!)

This is the end, sorry it took so long to finish, and as always, thanks for reading and I hope that you liked it. (:


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